


Reckoning

by AJWinter



Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: F/F, F/M, Sexual Content, Show Continuation, Suspense
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-18
Updated: 2016-03-09
Packaged: 2018-04-15 01:33:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 12
Words: 59,787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4587981
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AJWinter/pseuds/AJWinter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Think of this fic as a continuation of season one. Fisk's criminal empire has fallen and Nelson & Murdock deal with all the attention it has brought them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Introduction

  
  
A thin cloud shifted and the sun re-emerged, its light glaring off the polished black casket. She had to look away. Karen’s hair clung to her neck like a noose that she could only paw at helplessly. Foggy looked at her with a grimace and peeled his own hair away from his forehead. They squeezed each other’s hands and peered at the priest through the insensitive sunlight.

               ‘…and certain hope of resurrection to eternal life through Jesus Christ our Lord. This body we commit to the ground, to the elements, its resting place.’ Lantom shook off the heat like an unwelcome question and surveyed his audience, a black ring, suffering in the sun.  ‘Earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust.’

               Foggy looked at his friend. Karen’s hand was limp in his own. He had only been to one funeral before; his grandmother’s, and although he was young and barely knew her, he still cried. He cried until he fell asleep in his dad’s coat on the drive home. Now he was going to cry again and so was Karen.

               ‘Blessed are the dead who die in the Lord. Yes, says the Spirit, the will rest from their labors, for their deeds follow them.’

               Both their hands and their lips were trembling and a merciful cloud passed in front of the sun.

               ‘Lord, we thank you for those we love but see no more.’

               Lantom looked up and straight over to them. Foggy felt another stab of guilt over missing Ben’s funeral. He mouthed the words so the priest could see, ‘I’m sorry!’ If he had spoken them he would have choked. The priest gave no reaction and continued. Foggy almost groaned.

               ‘Receive into your arms your servant, Doris Urich, and grant that increasing in knowledge and love of you, she may go from strength to strength in service to your heavenly kingdom, through Jesus Christ our Lord.’

               From inside the thick of the crowd, someone tentatively cleared their throat; a young woman. Her dark skin seemed to drink up the sunlight as she stepped towards the casket. She had a brown envelope in her hand and a red tinge to her eyes and nose. Foggy turned to Karen.

               ‘That’s her sister,’ she said.

                His heart sank a little.

                Lantom put his hand on Jean Urich’s shoulder and stepped away, joining the circle of mourners. The young woman stood at the head of her sister’s casket and opened the envelope. Her fingers were steady and her puffy eyes surveyed the crowd. Every bowed head rose to watch her speak and the clouds gave them another reprieve.

                ‘My sister was sick for a long time. So long I can’t remember what she sounded like before. I know she didn’t hold it against me but I wasn’t there for her enough. I was… lazy and I let Ben do everything.’

                 Jean pulled a folded letter from the envelope, her dark eyes scanned the words.

                ‘It wasn’t until she lost Ben that we found each other again and by then it was too late. The only thing left to say was goodbye. She wouldn’t let me apologise.’

                Someone in the crowd blew into a tissue. Karen’s eyes stung.

                ‘It wouldn’t be right for me, or anyone, to stand here and talk about Doris as if they were there for her through it all. The only person worth listening to was taken from her.’

                Foggy squeezed Karen’s hand again.

                ‘I don’t think anyone here thought we’d be missing him today and it’s a cruel truth that he spent a long time preparing for a life without her that never came. It should be Ben up here. Instead I have a letter he intended to read today.’

                Karen’s grip tightened and Foggy gave a sharp yelp, passing it off as a whimper.

                Jean cleared her throat again and read Ben’s words.

                ‘Every second I spent by your side meant something to me. Every second we spent apart I carried you with me. You made a good man out of me even when you weren’t around. You’re not really gone. We were never really apart. I’ll miss you and I’ll mourn you but I don’t need to grieve because we’ll always be together.’

                Foggy looked at Karen with tears in his eyes, she was wiping away her own. Her grip on his hand had softened and the pain had dulled.

                Jean folded the letter away and wiped her eyes. The sun had finally left them and a breeze played with the hem of her dress. ‘Ben never had the chance to say these things to Doris but she did get the chance to hear them. I’m happy for that at least.’

                Jean looked over to Father Lantom and then took her place once more within the crowd. Through the weary faces, Karen caught her eye and they smiled, faintly but sincerely at one another.

                Lantom took Jean’s place and waited for the crowd. Karen thought he had a patient face. The priest put his hand on Doris’s casket and said the final words.

                ‘After saying our final farewells, let us go forth in the certain hope of being reunited with Doris at the end of time. Go forth with God’s peace and may the Almighty bless you now and forevermore. Amen.’

                Lantom waited a moment and then bowed his head, walking over to Jean and the rest of Doris’s family. He shook hands with every one of them. The black crowd dissipated listlessly, lifelessly, as though not to offend the dead. Foggy and Karen followed soon after.

                ‘I know it’s rich of me to say this but I’m pretty pissed off that Matt’s not here.’

                Karen nodded slightly. ‘It is rich of you.’

                ‘This is different, I was in a really, really bad place when Ben died.’

                ‘We all were, Foggy.’

                ‘But this is just… we owe Doris. He could at least pay his respects.’

                They walked from the cemetery arm in arm and the hot, harsh sun returned.

                ‘I think your judgement goes funny when money’s involved, Foggy.’

                Foggy groaned. ‘I know you’re right, but I’m going to continue being irritated. At least until we see Matt again and I forget all about it.’

                Karen smiled weakly as they left the Urich’s behind.

*

Three men inside. Tar and tobacco overtake the smell of the room. They’re wearing old leather shoes and old leather jackets. One of them is coming to the end of a cold, another will develop throat cancer in a month’s time. They’re sat around a TV but it’s on mute. One of them can’t handle their drink. The door’s made of thin steel and the hinges are rusted iron. Matt kicked it down. He threw his sticks smashing the TV, turning off the lights and crashing into the back of the smoker’s head. He wasn’t getting back up for a while. The other two approached him. Matt let them have the first shot. The man with the cold cracked a knuckle against Matt’s helmet. Matt Murdock closed a hand around the back of the man’s neck, raised a knee up towards his face and crushed his nose, leaving a swipe of blood on his costume. Matt drove his fist into the man’s solar plexus, again to his left kidney and threw him into a chair. Matt turned towards the last man, the one who couldn’t handle his drink. He pulled out a gun but Matt stood his ground. Two men in the dark, the devil and the drunk. The man cocked his gun, a round slid into the chamber, nine millimetre hollow points. He fired six times. He hit the wall, the door, the wall, the smoker’s leg, the wall and the floor. Matt stepped forward and the drunk ran out the door, throwing his gun away.

                The night was quiet now. Every distraction had been tucked in to bed. It was time to pay his respects. Matt retrieved his sticks and holstered them. One of the men had regained consciousness but continued to play dead. Matt grabbed him by the collar. The man with the cold tried to strike out but the blows glanced off Matt’s armour and he returned them with a kick to the leg and a quick backhand to the right temple. Matt threw him against a wall, lifted him once more by the collar and waited for the man to stop whimpering. Matt pointed to the coffee table.

                ‘Is that the only copy?’

                The man lashed out again so Matt head-butted him in his crushed nose. He screamed.

                ‘Are there any other copies?’

                ‘Y-Yes.’

                Matt grabbed him by the wrist and twisted. Another scream. ‘I don’t like being lied to.’

                Matt gave the man’s wrist a sharp twist and he fell to his knees. Matt picked the USB off the coffee table and made to leave, stepping over the busted door. He stopped in the doorway and turned back to the cowering man.

                ‘Next time you won’t be so lucky.’

                Matt walked out and melted into the dark.

                He had left his roses on a roof nearby. Matt changed out of his costume, into a suit and snuck down the fire escape. His sticks rattled gently in his old boxing grip bag. The cemetery was a short walk away.

                Matt stopped at the gates. Somewhere close by, a muffled heart beat frantically. Someone had been buried alive. Matt rushed through the headstones, searching for the sound, following the scent of fresh earth. He concentrated on the vibrations from his footsteps, feeling them travel through sturdy soil until they reached a plot that seemed looser. Matt ran until he stood directly over the pounding heart. He did a quick scan of the cemetery to check if he was still alone and changed, again, back into his costume. He would have to wash the mud off his suit in the early morning. With his hands, Matt began to dig and soon after a bloodied man scrambled out of the shallow grave.

                He was gasping and drenched in sweat. Only now could Matt hear just how furiously his heart had been beating. The man scraped dirt out of his eyes and squinting through the dark at Matt. His expression turned from relieved back to terrified and, suddenly, the stench of urine appeared. The man collapsed in a heap at Matt’s feet.

                ‘Please don’t kill me!’ he wailed. It was the drunk from earlier.

                His voice rebounded off every headstone.

                ‘That’s not why I’m here. Who buried you?’

                The man reeked so much Matt could hardly stand to be around him and his patience was quickly wearing out but he was traumatised to the point where Matt couldn’t bring himself to hit him. The drunk wailed some more.

                ‘Who did this to you?’ Matt said, raising his voice.

                The drunk spoke between cries. ‘I… d-d-don’t… know.’

                Matt covered his nose. ‘Well what did he look like, at least?’ he said, irritated.

                ‘Just a… g-guy.’

                Matt no longer had any reservations about hitting him.

                ‘What kind of guy?!’ he shouted. The man flinched away and wailed some more.

                ‘He was…’ the man took some deep breaths, ‘dressed all in black, like you used to, but instead of a mask he had a little white badge.’

                ‘Just a white badge?’

                ‘I th-think, maybe a skull.’

                Matt listened. They were alone. Whoever it was, they hadn’t stuck around. The drunk tried to stand but screamed instead. His clothes were soaked through with blood and sweat. Matt sighed.

                ‘Hold still,’ he said, putting a steadying hand on the drunk’s shoulder. The man’s shoulders relaxed and he sighed heavily. Matt knocked him out. It was a long walk to the hospital.

 

*  
  


Foggy stacked his coins on the bar whilst Josie poured their drinks and Matt stood beside him in silence. Except, for Matt, it was never silent. Above them, music played from the TV, behind them the normal buzz of chatter filled the air, and, on the other side of the room, Karen tapped her phone on the edge of the table, waiting for them to return.

                Foggy was staring at him.

                ‘You know I’m sorry,’ Matt said.

                ‘Do I? Whoops, I forgot my stethoscope, guess I’ll just have to take your word for it.’

                Matt sighed and rolled his eyes behind his shades. ‘Come on, Foggy.’

                ‘I mean, how do I _know_ you were out punching people, really?’

                Josie set down their drinks and gave Foggy an indignant look as he slid his coin tower towards her.

                ‘Last week, when I wanted to do Monopoly night, did you actually have to punch someone or was that just another excuse?’

                Matt opened his mouth, hesitated, then took a sip of his drink instead.

                ‘I can’t believe you! The one chance I had to be the richest person in the room and you stood me up.’

                ‘You still had Karen.’

                ‘You know how much she hates capitalism, Matt. Besides, it sucks with only two players.’

                ‘Okay, I really am sorry for that. Next time I will be one hundred percent in.’

                ‘Yeah, you will be. Or I’m telling Karen.’

                Foggy picked up the drinks and walked back to their table whilst Matt listened. He wasn’t lying.

                ‘You took your time,’ said Karen.

                ‘Matt was flirting with Josie again,’ said Foggy, setting Karen’s drink down in front of her. ‘She’s married, pal, let it go.’

                Matt sighed and sat down.

                ‘Is that what you were doing earlier, too?’ she asked him.

                ‘I’m sorry, Karen.’

                ‘It’s not me you should be apologising to. Do you know how much she left us? Money that Ben wanted her to live off?’

                ‘Not exactly, no.’

                ‘So what _were_ you doing?’

                Foggy buried his nose in his glass and looked away.

                ‘I had a meeting with the police about Fisk and Hoffman. Somehow they’ve been put on the same cell row.’

                Foggy raised his eyebrows but kept pretending to drink.

                ‘Is Fisk talking yet?’

                Matt shook his head.

                ‘It’s probably his best defence at this point considering everyone around him is either dead, gone or in there with him.’

                Foggy set his glass down. ‘There are still plenty of people willing to testify against Fisk in exchange for better deals though, so, I wouldn’t worry about it.’

                ‘It still doesn’t feel like it’s over.’ Karen said.

                ‘Well, it isn’t,’ said Matt.

                ‘Yeah, even after Fisk is put away I don’t expect he’ll see the light when he’s in there,’ said Foggy.

                ‘It almost makes me wish the guy in the mask had just dropped him off a rooftop or something,’ said Karen.

                Foggy’s mouth hung open and Matt tried not to react.

                ‘Fortunately, for us, he didn’t,’ Matt said, ‘because we’ve been spoiled for clients since the trial started.’

                Foggy snapped out of it. ‘Yes! No more will I have to take all of Marci’s condescending shtick.’

                Karen smiled. ‘As long as you don’t end up becoming your own Landman and Zack.’

                ‘Karen, that would never happen. I am far too self-aware and compassionate and good-looking, to ever head down that path.’ Foggy raised his glass to his lips and added, ‘probably.’

                Karen narrowed her eyes at him.

                ‘Karen has a point, Foggy. We’ll have to be careful with who we choose to represent. We don’t want to get a reputation defending the kind of person that wouldn’t have helped Karen or Elena.’

                ‘Right, I know,’ said Foggy, ‘I’m just happy that I don’t have to jump the subway turnstiles anymore.’

                Karen and Foggy turned to watch as the TV began the evening news and Matt’s ears pricked up.

                ‘Hold on a sec,’ Karen rushed over to the bar.

                ‘They’re talking about you, buddy.’ Foggy whispered.

                ‘I know.’

                Karen returned to the table and Josie turned up the volume. Everyone in the bar was listening.

                ‘…are asking, has this vigilante gone too far? Let’s go over to Eddie at the scene. Eddie, is this the work of the masked man?’

                ‘Well, Susan, the police have acted very swiftly in cornering off the building but I had a chance to speak with several of the witnesses who say that they heard gunshots and, moments later, saw a man in black fleeing the scene.’

                ‘Now, Eddie, could this be the Daredevil?’

                ‘It’s certainly possible and, if we wanna look at this logically, there are no other suspects at this point. I’m sure there are plenty of people, including myself, that knew he would cross a line sooner or later.’

                Foggy watched silently and Karen’s pulse raced.

                ‘Mmhm. Let’s be honest here, Eddie, do you think the police share some of the blame here?’

                ‘Oh, certainly. We’re dealing with a police force right now that’s been reduced to almost half its numbers due to the extensive corruption revealed in the wake of the Fisk arrest. Obviously, that kind of setback is going to have severe consequences where violent and brutal crimes like this become more common.’

                ‘Yep, yeah, thank you, Eddie.’

                Matt finished his drink.

                ‘That was Eddie Brock reporting at the scene of a triple homicide and now we’d like to hear what our viewers at home think. Let’s open the lines.’

                Foggy finished his drink and made a face. ‘That’s all for me, children.’

                ‘You’re leaving?’ said Karen.

                ‘Yessir, Marci’s got a job interview tomorrow and I have to be there in case she needs a last minute pep talk.’ 

                Karen cooed, grinning.

                ‘Yeah, I’m done too,’ said Matt, rising slowly from his chair. ‘Can you walk me back, Karen?’

                ‘Sure. Although, you should really get a dog.’

                ‘Yes! Yes, he should, Karen. Yes he should.’ Foggy said, pointing at Matt across the table.

                Karen stood up and took Matt’s arm in hers. ‘However, I am slightly drunk, so we’re going to have to combine our powers if we’re going to make it home.’

                ‘I’ll try my best,’ said Matt.

                ‘Alright then, let’s go!’ Foggy lead the way out of the bar and waved a goodbye at Josie who only glared back at him. He opened the door for Matt and Karen and they stepped into the cold night. It was quiet outside.

                ‘Umm, which way is it?’ laughed Karen.

                ‘Foggy?’ said Matt.

                ‘What?’

                ‘Could you show us the way?’

                Foggy came up behind them and moved their bodies in the right direction. Matt could feel tension in his movements and felt a pang of guilt for keeping up his charade.

                 ‘Can you make it from here?’ said Foggy.

                Matt nodded. ‘Thank you, Foggy.’

                ‘I’ll see you tomorrow, buddy.’

                He left, walking down the street towards Marci’s apartment, waving Karen goodbye.

                ‘He’s waving,’ said Karen.

                Matt waved back and then, with Karen leading the way, headed home. The silence had an eerie quality to it that would have had Matt thinking, if it wasn’t for Karen’s footsteps and slightly raised heartbeat, that he had lost his enhanced hearing.

                ‘Can you feel that?’ said Karen.

                ‘Yeah. We’re being watched.’

                ‘Fuck this, let’s call a cab.’

                Karen let go of his arm and dug around in her purse. Matt heard her punch in the numbers and then a tired voice emanate from the receiver. Karen took his arm again.

                ‘Taxi for two outside Josie’s as quick as you can?’ she said.

                Matt felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. The night’s silence disturbed him and he couldn’t shake the feeling that they were being hunted. He listened hard but even the wind was quiet. He remembered Nobu slowing his heartbeat to surprise him.

                ‘Let’s wait inside.’ Matt said, gently shuffling Karen back towards the bar.

                ‘Yeah, okay.’

                The steady din and warmth of Josie’s bar welcomed them back and settled their nerves. Karen let out a sigh and her frame seemed to relax.

                ‘This was a good idea,’ she said, sitting down in the nearest chair. Matt took the seat next to her. Karen ran her tongue against the back of her teeth so Matt turned towards her; she was about to say something.

                ‘I hope you make it to my funeral, Matt.’

                Becoming blind causes the brain to re-wire itself. All that empty space used for processing visual information is repurposed for the other senses. This redistribution enhances the remaining senses, allowing blind people to hear more, feel more, taste more. But there are more than just five senses. We sense time, we sense temperature, we have a sense of balance, of pain and hunger, even a weak sense of magnetic fields. A blind person without Matt’s training or his chemical accident can still interpret speech much faster than a seeing person. And yet Karen’s words still had him stunned.

                ‘What?!’

                ‘Well you and Foggy don’t exactly have a great track record.’

                Matt’s own heart was racing.

                ‘Karen I-’

                Outside a car horn sounded, breaking their secluded bubble.

                ‘Let’s go,’ she said, quickly rising to her feet. ‘I don’t wanna pass out in the cab.’

                Once again, Matt followed her out into the night although this time he could feel warmth radiating from a running engine. And something breathing overhead. Karen opened the car door for him.

                ‘Thanks.’ He got inside, heart racing, he wanted to pull Karen in straight away but she took her time going around to the other side. There was someone out there. A set of steady lungs, taking in the cold air and releasing it again like slow, warm steam. They drove away listlessly but Matt listened until the engine drowned out anything else. His skin was cold and sensitive whilst Karen radiated sleepy heat from beside him.

                ‘Hey, no passing out, remember?’ he said, faintly.

                ‘I won’t,’ she said, using his shoulder as a pillow.

                They turned corner after corner but Matt couldn’t relax. The sound of that steady exhale haunted him with its familiarity. But it had been so many years.

Karen began to snore. 

*

A gunshot rang out and the wind whistled through the hole it left in his window. Matt jolted upright in his bed and reached for his cane. He was alone in his apartment but a bullet had buried itself at the foot of his bed. A rough, little burrow in the wooden frame. There was splintered glass on his floor and more gunshots came from the building opposite but none of them in his direction. Matt dived to his wardrobe, flinging open the doors and emptying out his box. Scooping up his father’s old boxing gear, he hastily threw it onto his bed and began pulling on his suit. The gunshots and stopped and been replaced by another sound, like a giant crow passing overheard being chased by a miniature plane. Matt fastened his helmet and snuck out to the roof.

                It was much warmer inside his suit. Despite Melvin not having time to complete it, Matt considered it a masterpiece. Light enough not to get in his way but sturdy enough to make him feel threatening. Although it was gaudier than his black outfit, it would at least prevent him from being impersonated. At least, that was the idea.

                By the time he reached the neighbouring rooftop, whoever had been there, whoever had shot at him, was long gone. The smell of burnt powder was quickly dissipating. He must have only just missed them. There was also the tangy smell of iron, of blood. Matt followed it and reached down, picking up a small rectangular piece of card. It was thin with rounded edges. He pulled off a glove to feel it better. It wasn’t new but it was in good condition, not trash that accidentally been tossed away or blown over here. A small splash of blood had fallen on it, Matt ran his thumb over the surface. There was an intricate and sprawling pattern covering it and, on the other side, he felt the ace of spades. Matt flipped it round in his fingers a few more times as he paced the rooftop, searching for anything else that could have been left behind but that seemed to be all. He was alone.

                Matt headed back to his apartment and, after putting away his costume and boxing memorabilia, cleaned the broken glass off his floor and taped up the hole in his window. The wind would have kept him up all night.

                Regardless, he couldn’t sleep for hours. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's a new player in Hell's Kitchen that seems to want Daredevil's attention. The gang, however, are still reeling from the Fisk case and their respective parts in it.

A searing pain in his head woke him accompanied by the incessant, early morning chirping of birds. Even though he had taped up the hole, his apartment was still slightly colder than usual. Matt tried to focus on shutting out the pain, like Stick had taught him to do, but during Matt’s childhood, and throughout all of his training, he had never had to deal with a hangover. He half-slid, half-crawled out of bed and slouched his way to the kitchen. Matt filled a glass with luke-warm water, downed it and immediately re-filled it. He gets dressed for work and heads out the door with high-blood pressure and intensifying hatred for birdsong.

                He was halfway down the street before he realised he’d forgotten his cane. Matt turned on his heel and pretended to blunder back the way he had came, rubbing his aching head and swearing under his breath. Again, he could feel people watching him, however, this time, it was mostly innocent. It was an extra ten minutes before he arrived at the offices of Nelson and Murdock and when he got there, Foggy was slumped, face-down, on his desk, surrounded by a gallon-jug of ice water. If it hadn’t been for the dribble running down his cheek and his shallow breathing, Matt would have panicked. Instead, he “accidentally” slammed the door behind him. Foggy woke with a start.

                ‘I know you’re not blind, Matt! You can’t do me like that anymore!’

                Despite the anger in Foggy’s voice, Matt grinned as he sat on the edge of the table, beside his friend. He set his cane down and took a deep gulp from one of Foggy’s jugs.

                ‘No Karen today?’ he said.

                ‘No, I told her not to bother. It’s just gonna be one of those days,’ said Foggy, with a lingering grumpy undertone.

                ‘Fair enough. So, are we flipping?’

                Foggy groaned loudly. ‘Fine,’ he pulled out a coin, ‘heads or tails?’

                ‘Can I feel the coin?’

                ‘No! No, blind magic, Matt! Just pick a side.’

                Matt’s grin disappeared. ‘Okay,’ he paused, ‘tails.’

                Foggy flipped and caught the coin.

                Matt heard another groan.

                ‘Oh, would you look at that,’ said Foggy, suspiciously.

                ‘I can’t help being lucky.’

                ‘Whatever, are you staying in or going out?’

                ‘I’ll go, if you’re okay with answering the phone all day.’

                Foggy threw up his hands. ‘I guess I’ll have to be.’

                ‘I’m sorry, Foggy, I’ll make it up to you.’

                ‘You’ll be making it up to me for a long, long time, Murdock.’

                Matt grinned.

                There was a long pause and Foggy’s breathing kept changing.

                ‘Just ask,’ said Matt.

                ‘Okay, did you have anything to do with the murders last night?’

                ‘I was with you the whole time, Foggy.’

                ‘I know that,’ he snapped, ‘but do you know the guy who did it?’

                ‘You mean, are we working together? Is he my vigilante protégé that went off the rails?’

                There was a low groan building in Foggy’s throat.

                ‘You know, if I was an incredibly attractive and well-built costumed vigilante, I would never make fun of you, my loyal partner, like that.’

                Again, Matt felt that guilt.

                ‘No, I don’t know who he is, but I’m looking into it.’

                ‘…Go on.’

                Foggy was sitting forward in his chair now, arms folded on the desk.

                ‘The other night, after Doris’s funeral, I was out looking for someone specific. Did you hear about that kid they found by the harbour?’

                Foggy grimaced. ‘Yeah.’

                ‘Somehow they got into his friend’s Facebook and lured him out where they could get him.’

                ‘Okay…’

                ‘I found out that they had a program that could imitate anyone’s account. When I found them it was just three guys. No overhead, just three blue-collar guys. When I got there they were waiting for a little girl to show up.’

                Foggy’s heartrate was steadily increasing. ‘Is there any part of this you can skip?’

                ‘I’m already skipping. I got there in time but one of the guys got away. I had the program so it didn’t matter. That’s when I went to see Doris.’

                ‘So you do care,’ muttered Foggy.

                The corners of Matt’s lips twitched but he carried on.

                ‘The guy that got away; someone had buried him alive in that cemetery. I dug him out and he said a man in black with a little skull badge put him there. That’s all I know.’

                ‘So there is another man in black running around out there now. Well done, you’ve started a cult.’

                Matt frowned. He considered telling Foggy about whomever had been watching them outside Josie’s last night but thought the better of it. He didn’t want to prematurely worry his friend. Ignorance was bliss. Matt found that out the day after his accident.

                ‘Well, good luck tracking down a guy that doesn’t leave anyone alive,’ said Foggy. He leaned back in his chair and drank another glass of water. Matt sighed and stood up.

                ‘What makes you think I’m going to track him down?’

                Foggy hesitated for a moment. For him, there was still a small disconnect between Matt and Daredevil.

                ‘Because if you don’t I’ll turn you in? Or worse, I’ll tell Karen.’

                ‘I never thought you’d try blackmailing me, Foggy.’

                ‘Whaaat!’ Blackmail? That’s such a morbid word, Matt. I’m just trying to guide you in the right direction.’

                ‘This is blackmail.’

                ‘As a lawyer I can safely say that if one’s best friend and business partner turns out to be a costumed vigilante then it’s perfectly legal to engage in some light blackmailing as compensation for the years of invasive heartbeat reading.’

                Matt stared at Foggy with a face so blank it was unusual even for him.

                ‘We’ll work it out,’ he said, finally. The phone rang for the first time that day, signalling that it was time to get to work.

                Matt stole some more water whilst Foggy picked up the phone.

                ‘Hello you’ve reached Foggy Nelson at Nelson and Murdock, what can I do you for?’

                Matt grinned and patted his friend on the shoulder before making his way out the door. He could still hear him speaking when he stepped out onto the street.

                ‘No, but I do speak Punjabi.’

                Immediately, he could feel their eyes on him. Steady heart, patient lungs. Matt quickly hailed a cab and it skidded to a stop in front of him. The driver leaned across and threw the door open for him. Matt thanked him sheepishly.

                ‘Where to, pal?’

                ‘The precinct on 54th, please.’

                ‘Okey-dokey, let’s go.’

                The taxi shuffled off to an awkward start. Matt plugged in his seatbelt and followed every turn the driver made. He knew what street they were on and which buildings flanked them, he knew they were going the wrong way.

‘54th, not South.’

‘I know, but there’s a road closed down that way.’

‘Oh, any idea why?’

‘Crime scene, so I hear. Cops found three guys full o’ holes. Nasty business from the sounds of it.’

                ‘Why?’

                ‘Fuck knows,’ he said, leaning back to look at him, ‘you’re blind right?’

                ‘Uhh, yeah.’

                ‘How’d you know I won’t just drop you off wherever I want?’

                Matt grinned.

                ‘I guess I’ll just have to trust you.’

                ‘How’d it happen then?’

                ‘You mean, how’d I go blind?’

                ‘Well, yeah.’  

                ‘I don’t know, I wasn’t looking.’

                The driver laughed. ‘That’s ironic.’

                ‘Mm.’

                They turned onto 7th avenue and passed Times Square.

                ‘So these murders, are there any suspects?’ asked Matt. He had brought the playing card with him and fiddled with it, thumbing the corners.

                ‘Not yet but my money’s on that terrorist in the black mask.’

                Matt concealed a frown.

                ‘Did they cover it on the news?’

                ‘Oh yeah, Brock’s been from one bloodbath to another lately. I reckon he was working for Fisk all along and, now that Fisk’s sitting in Riker’s, there’s no one to keep the dog on his leash.’

                ‘That’s pretty convincing.’ Matt spoke with a hint of sarcasm so subtle only he could hear it.

                ‘Yup. What we need is that Daredevil to show up and kick his ass.’

                Matt decided to take cabs more often.

                ‘Although, technically, if Daredevil hadn’t help put Fisk away, the man in black would still be on his leash.’

                ‘Aye, that’s true.’

                They slowed down and pulled up. ‘Here we go, sir, North Precinct on 54th.’

                His driver vaulted out of his seat and ran around the car to let Matt out.

                ‘Oh, thanks,’ said Matt. He pocketed the ace of spades and climbed out of the cab.

                ‘No problem, my good man. Will you be needing a ride back later?’

                ‘Uh, yes, but not for a long time.’

                ‘Okay, that’s alright, here’s my card.’

                ‘Oh, erm, thanks.’ Matt held out a tentative hand and the driver placed it there.

                ‘Have a good one.’

                ‘Thank you-’ he ran his thumb over the letters, ‘John Smith… Okay then.’

                The driver winked at the blind man and then awkwardly retreated into his cab, stopping himself short of waving goodbye.

                Matt waited until he drove away and pocketed the business card.

                The precinct stood before him. A large building of several floors and many small windows. Despite only having five cells, the entire structure had the appearance of a prison and when one entered it, proceeding up the few steps and through the double-doors, it invoked the old feeling of stepping into the headmaster’s office. Foggy said it was an ugly building and Karen hated it. For Matt, it had its uses, and he was nothing if not resourceful. When he entered, Matt felt a dozen eyes sweep over him and at least two groans.

                Matt approached the front desk, his cane, clacking on the stone floor.

                ‘Hey, Murdock, what do you want?’

                Matt smiled towards the voice. ‘I’m here to see Sergeant Mahoney.’

                Someone in the far corner of the room tutted at him.

                ‘Well is the _Lieutenant_ expecting you?’

                ‘Yes.’  

                There was a moment of silence when Matt heard their jaw clenching and pictured their masseter muscles bulging out from under their ears.  

                ‘Well alright then go right in, sir, Mr. Murdock, sir.’

                The officer stepped out from behind his desk and opened a door for Matt.

                ‘Thank you, officer.’

                After the accident, Matt got used to saying _thank you_ a lot. Too much. He stepped into the headmaster’s office.

                ‘Hey, Matt. No douchbag today?’

                Brett stood from his chair and stretched across his desk to shake Matt’s hand. He withdrew it quickly and pretended to adjust his nameplate. Matt could hear his heart speed up.

                ‘Foggy’s hungover, he had a funeral yesterday.’

                ‘Good, my mom could use a break.’

                ‘I think he’s going to mail them instead,’ said Matt, grinning.

                Brett’s eyed narrowed and his smile dropped off.

                ‘That’s not funny. He already knows where I work, if he knows where I live, I’ll have to leave the country.’

                ‘You still live with your mom?’

                ‘Yeah,’ Brett said, leaning forward with both palms on his desk, ‘so what? Do you hate your parents or something, Murdock?’

                ‘My parents are dead.’

                ‘Did Foggy get to them too?’

                Matt actually laughed and, as he did, Brett exhaled loudly.

                ‘If you hadn’t found that funny I’d be going straight to hell. I’m sorry about your parents, Murdock.’

                ‘Thanks. Anyway, are you ready to get going?’

                Brett sighed. ‘Yeah I just need to kick everyone’s asses so they don’t slack off while I’m gone, one sec.’

                ‘Of course, lieutenant.’

                ‘Aha ha ha shut up.’

                Brett left the room, closing the door behind him and Matt began immediately. He set his cane down against the door and started running his fingers over Brett’s exposed paperwork. The majority of the files held no interest to him, simple managerial documents. Shuffled between them, however, Matt found what he was looking for; an incident report. Brett’s footsteps were approaching. He rushed his fingers over the typescript.

                In the early hours of the morning three men were found dead in Hell’s Kitchen. It was obvious that they had died from extensive gunshot wounds. A preliminary inspection by a coroner showed that the majority of their wounds had been sustained whilst they were in positions of surrender or flight. The three men had been seen on the docks just past midnight and had previously been connected with the importing of blood diamonds from the Sierra Leone. Their residence had been overturned and the officers on the scene found no sign of diamonds, indicating theft. Some witnesses report seeing an unfamiliar man entering the building only a few minutes before the gunshots were heard. They gave a composite description of a white man, around five foot eleven, very well built, short dark hair, dressed in all black with a white badge on his chest. Officers performed a search of the building upon arrival but no one matching that description was found.

                Matt’s cane fell to the floor as Brett re-entered.

                ‘Fuck, I’m sorry, man.’

                Matt dropped the documents back onto the desk and turned around. Brett was too busy reaching for Matt’s cane to notice.

                ‘No, that was my fault, I’m always putting it down in the worst places.’

                ‘Haha, well who can blame you.’ He handed back Matt’s cane and held the door open for him.

                ‘Thanks. Are we good to go?’ Matt asked. 

                ‘Yep, I take it I’m driving?’

                ‘Only if you enjoy being alive.’

                They left the building laughing and Brett opened the car door for Matt.

                ‘This will have to be a quick one though. I’ve gotta be back in two hours to check in with my detectives,’ said Brett, walking round to his side of the cruiser.

                ‘You know they have phones for that kind of thing now.’

                ‘Oh yeah I’ll just send a text, “postpone meeting, escorting blind guy to Riker’s”. Should I leave kisses too?’

                ‘I don’t know, I don’t text much,’ said Matt, waving a hand in front of his eyes.

                Brett had nothing to say after that.

                ‘You know, I had to go the long way around to get to the precinct, earlier.’

                ‘Well I hope the triple homicide didn’t inconvenience you too much, Murdock.’

                ‘So that’s what it was.’

                Brett nodded but kept his eyes on the road. ‘Yep.’

                ‘Any idea who did it?’

                ‘Not a single clue.’

                ‘What about the one early last night, Brock seems to think the man in black had something to do with it.’

                ‘Well, that’s the word on the street.’ Brett said, turning a corner.

                ‘But you don’t think so?’

                ‘It doesn’t line up with what we know about him. Besides, he’s in red now.’

                ‘So you think its two different guys? Like a copycat vigilante?’

                ‘Do I look like I’m on the stand right now, Murdock?’

                ‘Sorry, it’s in my blood.’

                ‘Haven’t you gotten yourself into enough trouble already?’

                ‘Trouble is also in my blood.’

                Brett took his eyes off the road to give Matt an incredulous look.

                ‘You know, now that I’m lieutenant I won’t really have the time to escort you around Riker’s anymore.’

                ‘Can it really be called a promotion then?’ laughed Matt.

                ‘According to my payslip, hell yes. I’ll assign someone else to do this with you, someone who’s actually trained to work with blind people.’

                ‘You can do that?’

                ‘Well I’m going to have to, Murdock, because it seems like you’re never going to stop buzzing around the station and I can’t have a blind guy constantly losing his walking stick.’

                ‘I’m very sorry, Brett.’

                ‘It’s a health and safety hazard.’

                ‘I know.’

                ‘I have a lot of responsibility now.’

                ‘I didn’t ask to be blind.’

                ‘Shut up, Murdock, just shut up.’

                They drove over the bridge in silence and Matt went back to bending the ace’s corners.  

                ‘Are we there yet?’

                ‘Don’t even start that with me right now.’

                Matt chuckled to himself.

                ‘We’re nearly there, coming up to the booths now.’

                Matt relaxed in his seat and rolled his cane between his fingers.

                ‘Good morning, Sergeant Mahoney.’

                Matt craned his neck, ‘it’s lieutenant now,’ he said.

                ‘Ah, congratulations. Business as usual?’

                ‘Yep,’ said Brett. He passed some documents through the window.

                ‘Okaaay, right then, here you go.’

                The security barrier hoisted itself up, letting them through and the prison guard handed back Brett’s papers.

                ‘Thanks, Ash.’

                Matt nodded politely at the guard and they proceeded over the bridge. When they reached the island, Matt jumped out of the cruiser before anyone could open the door for him.

                ‘Alright,’ said Brett, ‘let’s check in quickly and head down to the cells. Like I said, I have to be back by two.’

                Matt followed Brett through the prison whilst he checked them in. Every minute he spent bumbling around in public made him miss being out in his suit all the more. Now that he had another name, the line between his identities felt more blurred than ever. The costume was just a costume, a tool to aid Matt Murdock, not another part of him. That’s how it should be, he thought.

                He reached Hoffman’s cell row. Brett and another prison guard escorted him down the long corridor. Matt remembered watching The Shawshank Redemption with his dad before the accident. After he lost his sight, they didn’t stop going to the movies together. Instead, they sat right at the back with plenty of sweets for Matt and drinks for his father. For two hours, Jack would describe the movie, scene by scene to his son, until all the paper cups were empty and his tongue had dried up. They watched Toy Story I and II that way. When the third one came out, Foggy described it to him, instead.

                They walked down the corridor so quietly that Matt could hear the impassive beating of a hundred beating hearts, weakened by cold walls and bad food, apart from one. They passed the cell with the solid heartbeat and Matt tapped his cane against the door. He felt a huge man sitting, motionless, on a bed that seemed far too small for him. Matt knew who it was and felt something bubbling in the pit of his stomach. Fisk presented like a man with nothing inside him but Matt could hear the difference; it slammed against his ribcage.

                ‘We’re here, Murdock.’

                ‘Thank you, lieutenant. You can wait outside.’

                ‘Yep, just, really, make it quick, please.’

                The guard opened up the cell door and Matt stepped inside, leaving his cane with Brett. Hoffman was lying on his bed, facing the wall.

                ‘Good morning, Carl.’

                ‘Is it?’

                Hoffman rolled over and sat up on the edge of the bed. ‘Would you like to sit down?’

                ‘No, it’s alright, I have to make this quick anyway.’ Matt leaned back against the steel door. ‘How are things with you?’

                Hoffman sighed. ‘Well, I’m finally out of solitary confinement.’

                ‘Yeah, I noticed. How’s that working out for you?’

                ‘Let’s see, on the one hand, great because I don’t want to kill myself anymore. On the other hand, not so great, because I now realise just how many people want me to kill myself.’

                ‘Yeah, you’re in a pretty unique position here. Would you like me to talk to someone about that?’

                ‘Honestly? I would if I thought it would help.’

                ‘Is there anyone harassing you specifically that could be dealt with?’

                ‘Come on, man, you know how many people are in here because of me. Because of _me_. You know I’m right next to Fisk? Let’s be real here, these guards don’t give a shit about me.’

                Matt adjusted his glass. He paced around the room, one hand following the wall.

                ‘Has Fisk threatened you?’

                ‘Nope. But probably only because I’ve never seen him around. I’m not sure if I’m managing to avoid him or if he just never leaves his cell.’

                ‘That doesn’t sound right.’

                ‘Oh, it’s not right. In fact, it’s pretty fucked up. You know, he has more visitors than anyone else here?’

                ‘How do you know that?’

                ‘Because they come to his fucking cell, like you do. I hear them coming in all the time.’

                Matt stopped pacing and rested a hand on the wall between Hoffman’s cell and Fisk’s. Personally, Matt thought it could have been a bit thicker.

                ‘Any idea who?’

                ‘Nope. Sounds like it’s the same two people though.’

                ‘At the same time?’

                ‘Nope.’

                ‘How often do they come?’

                ‘You know, I thought you were supposed to be my defence attorney.’

                Matt dropped his hand from the wall and faced Hoffman.

                ‘I’ll talk to Lieutenant Mahoney and my partner and we’ll try and improve your situation.’

                ‘ _Lieutenant_ Mahoney? I’m in jail and that overcooked carrot got a promotion?’

                Matt ignored the comment but couldn’t stop the hints of a smile. ‘I’ll give him your congratulations.’

                Hoffman gave a curt laugh. ‘Just make sure I don’t get killed in here, Murdock. Everyone in this place knows how much you need your star witness.’

                His words made Matt remember how casually Hoffman and Blake had decided who would be the one to murder their prisoner. The memory stirred the devil.

                ‘Yes, that would be tragic. You’re making an appearance at Senator Cherryh’s trial in two weeks and Corbin’s the week after.’

                ‘What about Fisk’s?’

                ‘Saved for last. We want to make sure our case is as tight as possible.’

                Hoffman sighed dejectedly. ‘Do you know how many people are murdered by their own guards?’

                ‘No, Hoffman, and frankly I don’t want to know and if you want me to keep helping you, you’ll stop reminding me what kind of,’ Matt chewed on the word, ‘man you are.’

                Hoffman shrank.

                ‘I have to go, I said I’d make this quick. I’ll visit again closer to the trial, with my partner too, and we’ll go over the specifics.’

                ‘Ok.’ His voice had gone flat.

                Matt headed towards the door.

                ‘Hoffman, everyone deserves a shot at redemption, that’s why I never-’ he stopped himself short, ‘don’t throw your chance away.’

                ‘Thanks, coach,’ he said. Matt could tell that Hoffman wasn’t looking at him anymore.

                ‘Keep a closer eye on Fisk’s cell. We, you and I, can’t afford to miss anything at all, alright?’

                The former detective nodded.

                ‘Thank you. I’ll find my own way out.’

                Hoffman gave him a dark look. Matt turned away to mask his grin and banged on the steel door. ‘Right, we’re done.’

                The door opened with a screech and Matt stepped out. The guard that had escorted them through the prison had left Brett to wait on his own. The lieutenant ignored Hoffman’s very existence as he locked the cell door behind Matt. Brett poked Matt with his cane, prompting him to take it.

                ‘Thanks,’ Matt said, distantly.

                ‘No problem, let’s go.’

                They started down the long path out but, immediately, something caught Matt’s attention. He focused on his act.

                Fisk stood at his cell door. An impressive gargoyle, his eyes peering through the small hole in the steel. Matt could feel those eyes on him. Fisk’s hands were pressed against the door, as though he were taking a measure of its weight and strength. Matt remembered how Fisk had thrown him around like a kitten in a dog’s mouth and now he had to pretend as if he didn’t know Fisk was staring straight at him. He gripped his cane tighter. Brett saw Fisk and slid his window shut.

                ‘Asshole.’

Matt didn’t have much to say on the drive home and the lieutenant didn’t prompt him. When Brett dropped him back in Hell’s Kitchen, Matt could hardly concentrate on keeping up his act and returned at least two smiles. He blamed it on the hangover.

                When he reached his building, the ace in his pocket began to reek so much the smell seem to envelop him and the feeling of being watched returned. Matt stepped inside with a firm hold on his cane. The smell was getting sharper. By the time he reached his apartment it was making him dizzy. He could sense a difference inside his room, a chaos, and he fumbled with the door handle.

                It was a mess. Matt tapped his cane on the floor, feeling the room. The stench had reached every corner, overwhelming the familiarity. He double-checked his furniture. His clothes had been pulled out of his draws and hastily replaced. They’d been in every room, even the bathroom, disassembling the whole place before throwing it together again in frustration. Matt rushed over to the wardrobe where he kept his father’s old boxing gear. Like everything else, it had been taken out and thrown back in, but whoever had been here, hadn’t removed the false bottom. Matt wasn’t sure whether he should feel relieved or not. Nothing had disappeared or appeared apart from the horrible smell. Whatever they were looking for, they left disappointed.

                Matt opened all the windows, pulled off his tie and went back to bed, leaving his cane close by.

*

It was like sitting inside a big leather suitcase. Karen rearranged her hair to add another barrier between her and God.

                ‘Hello Father,’ she said. The walls of her confession booth had the comforting effect of dampening her voice.

                ‘Hello, my child.’

                A moment of silence threatened to become awkward.

                ‘I’m not a Christian.’

                Karen had her eyes on her hands, stiff in her lap.

                ‘I’ve never been a very spiritual person. I don’t know if there’ve been any moments in my life where I felt like God was there.’

                ‘Is this your first confession?’

                ‘Yes.’ Karen nodded to herself.

                ‘Have you sinned?’ said Lantom.

                Karen eyed the partition from her peripherals.

                ‘I’m not sure.’

                The box had a strange warmth to it that seemed to radiate from the wooden structure and Karen wondered how many people had sat there today.

                ‘I came looking for a second opinion, I guess.’

                ‘I’ll do my best. You can tell me.’

                The memory of sunbeams glinting off Doris’s casket flared in her mind. Lantom had the same note of sincerity in his voice as he did then, in the blazing heat. She hoped, again, that the booth was soundproof.

                ‘Last night, someone broke into my home and held a gun to my head.’

                Karen’s voice started to shake and she retreated further behind her curtain of hair.

                ‘I managed to get the gun away from them… and I shot them.’

                She heard Father Lantom take a deep breath from the other side of the partition.

                ‘Why didn’t you call the police, once you had the gun?’

                ‘He- he was a cop. I didn’t think they would believe me. I didn’t trust them.’

                There was a pause.

                ‘Did you think you had a choice?’

                _You were supposed to go away, Miss Page._

                ‘No, I thought I was gonna die.’

                ‘It’s not a sin to defend your life. Sometimes there is no decision that feels right, but there’s usually a better one. That man performed an evil on you and, perhaps, to others. Are you looking for forgiveness?’

                 ‘No.’

                Another pause.

                ‘Would you have killed him, Father?’

                Karen asked the quest whilst peering through her curtain.

                _Do I have your attention?_

                ‘I don’t know. Would you do it again?’

                Karen swallowed the lump in her throat and turned away from the partition.

                ‘I’d have to.’

                ‘Is that what you’d tell God?’

                Karen breathed a laugh.

                ‘I’d tell him if he expects me to ask for forgiveness he can fuck off. The devil wouldn’t give me that shit.’

                ‘Well, that’s between you and God. As for me, I don’t condemn your decision.’

                ‘That counts for something right?’

                ‘Yeah.’

                Karen’s shoulders relaxed and she felt tired.

                ‘Thank you, Father.’

                ‘There’s no thanks necessary, my child. And, please, don’t be afraid to come back.’

                ‘Okay.’

                Karen brushed away her hair curtain and stepped out of the confession box. A rush of cool air birthed her into the church. She scanned the pews; empty, save for an elderly woman. Karen walked towards the exit and tried to give the woman some privacy, but her shoes kept clack-clacking on the stone floor and, as she passed her, Karen heard her prayers.

                ‘…back to me.’

                Karen walked faster. It was twilight outside when Hell’s Kitchen received her. The fresh air on her face felt heavenly after her hangover. Karen headed towards her new apartment. It wasn’t long before she heard someone else clack-clacking close behind her. Suddenly, the taser in her bag felt a lot heavier. Karen crossed the road, just to be sure.

                They crossed after her.                

                Karen walked faster as dark ink seeped slowly into the sky. She rushed ahead and ducked into an alley, waiting for them right around the corner. Karen pulled out her taser and held it ready.

                They turned the corner, a few inches taller than her and built much heavier, he jumped at the sight of her. Karen kneeled immediately and shocked him in the balls, pushing him hard against the alley wall. He screamed, loudly, and the others came out of nowhere.

                Someone grabbed Karen from behind, one hand closing over her mouth. Her teeth came down hard around bone and another yell rippled down the alleyway. Her stalker was on the ground, both hands reaching between his legs, his entire body shaking. The man behind Karen grabbed a fistful of her hair and pulled her around, holding her before the rest of the group. They were wearing dust masks and navy hoods so all Karen saw were 4 pairs of eyes burning furiously in her direction.

                ‘This is definitely her?’

                The one holding her hair asked the question.

                ‘Definitely, I’ve seen her a hundred times.’

                Karen thought about screaming.

                ‘Check her bag. Be sure.’

                Karen drew breath but he clasped a hand over her mouth and nose. She began to suffocate. The man killing her jerked his head at another of the goons. They opened a small rucksack and pulled out some duct tape, ripping off enough to shut her up.

                ‘Just the mouth. She’s worth nothing dead.’ said Karen’s assailant.

                Black spots were appearing in the corners of her eyes.

                The man approached her with the outstretched tape and Karen knew she only had a second.

                Karen emptied her lungs of air in a scream that delivered a sting between her ribs. No one would be able to ignore that. A fist struck her in the stomach and Karen doubled over and she felt some of her hair come out. The tape covered her mouth and someone tore her bag away from her.

                ‘Check it.’ He took the tape away from the other, replacing it with Karen’s bag and began taping her hands together.

                ‘Yep, I told you, Karen Page.’

                He held out her ID for the others as Karen’s vision cleared up.

                Their leader double checked, yanking Karen’s head back to get a closer look.

                ‘Alright. Bag her.’

                Karen’s world went dark.

                A gunshot rang out and Karen felt something splatter against the outside of her hood. Her captor’s hands fell away and her body trembled with that volatile mix of fear and adrenaline. A sudden chorus of gunfire made all other sounds indistinguishable. Karen launched herself to the ground and made her body as small as possible. Something splashed down her skirt and legs, something warm and thick. Less than a mile away, Matt Murdock woke up.

                It was over in a minute. All Karen could register was the ringing in her ears and the choking aroma of fresh blood. Gradually, she recognized the sound of approaching footsteps, and then, a voice.

                ‘I’m going to take that sack off your head, but you might want to keep your eyes closed anyway.’

                Karen didn’t say anything. Instead, she felt like she had only just regained the ability to breathe again.

                She felt hands, close to her face, and, moments later, the sack came off.

                Karen’s eyes, already hyper-adjusted to the dark, saw him immediately. She knew who it was. A tall man with a hard figure and a harder face, dressed in all black. If Karen hadn’t met the man in black before, she might have mixed them up too, but the differences were there. He wore a black hood with a tip that came down to his eyebrows and on his chest, over his heart, there was a little badge with a skull on it. Karen’s entire throat was dry. He didn’t have a spot of blood on him, save for his boots, where the soles were wet.

                He slipped out a knife and reached behind her, slicing through the duct tape on her hands.

                Karen snatched up her taser and the man jumped back.

                ‘Hold on, I’m not a threat here. I was just trying to help.’

                He held the knife down by his side and gave Karen an inquisitive look as she tore the tape away from her mouth. Karen scanned the ground for a better weapon but she’d have to rummage through the corpses if she wanted to find anything useful and he wouldn’t stand by while she did so. Instead, she picked up her bag and ID, which she gingerly wiped on a body.

                The alleyway reeked and Karen knew it wouldn’t be long at all before the police arrived.

                ‘Are you going to kill me?’ she asked.

                The man with the skull badge shook his head.

                ‘No, I don’t do that.’

                Karen looked pointedly at the five bodies sprawled on the ground.

                ‘Only the ones that deserve it,’ he said.

                Karen gave a slow nod and dropped her ID back into her bag.

                ‘That’s cute,’ she said, gesturing at the badge. ‘You’ve been busy lately.’

                He didn’t disagree.

                ‘You only killed “bad guys”?’ Karen made the quote marks with her fingers.

                ‘That’s right.’

                She nodded again.

                ‘So you’re the new executioner, the one no one asked for.’

                He took a deep breath.

                ‘Someone needs to punish them when the law won’t.’

                ‘And you’re the punisher.’ Karen lowered her taser.

                He gave a slight smirk and Karen’s eyes narrowed at him more than a little bit.

                ‘I have to go, I don’t want to be here when someone turns up.’

                ‘Yeah, me too.’

                ‘You’re not going to shoot me as I walk away, are you?’

                ‘Only if you deserve it,’ he said.

                Karen started walking away, trying to avoid the pooling blood.

                ‘Well I did write in a library book once.’

                ‘Goodnight, Karen.’

                She almost slipped but froze instead. ‘Goodnight, Punisher.’ And she walked away as quickly and politely as she could.

                At the top of the alleyway, from the rooftop, Matt watched her leave and the killer let her go. The sirens were getting louder, he would leave soon. Matt counted five dead in the alley below and only one guy left standing. He had heard it all but by the time he’d arrived, Karen was collecting her bag. His own heart was racing. The Punisher left and Matt followed from above.

                Someone else was following him too. A presence Matt hadn’t felt before. Extremely agile but not delicate, almost like a wolf in the darkness. It seemed to be focusing on Punisher with only a passing awareness of Matt’s presence. He drew his sticks.

                The Punisher seemed not to notice either Matt or his other stalker and walked, casually, to his van. It was after he drove away that Matt heard something behind him, like a Pegasus. There was only one thing it could be. Only one person.

                ‘I didn’t expect to run into the devil of Hell’s Kitchen so soon.’ 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next update will be on the 1st of September.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Matt uncovers Fisk's latest plot with the help of a new friend.

‘That’s funny. I didn’t expect to run in to you at all.’

                Matt turned around and pocketed his sticks. ‘Welcome to Hell’s Kitchen.’ He held out his hand.

                Sam shook it. ‘Looks like we’re chasing the same guy.’

                ‘Seems so. Is that what brings you here? I thought you global humanitarians would have more important things to do.’

                ‘What can I say, it’s a slow day at the office. Besides, I like to keep an eye on my city.’

                ‘I know the feeling,’ said Matt.

                ‘Well maybe we can help each other out. Catch bad guys together. Split the credit. Sixty-forty of course.’

                ‘Sounds fair. I could use a sidekick.’

                Sam laughed.

                ‘Although,’ said Matt, ‘I’m not sure it would look so good for Captain America’s bald eagle to be seen partnering up with a lowly vigilante.’

                ‘No one has to see us.’

                He seemed to warm the air around him. They waited for the other’s smiles to wear off before speaking.

                ‘So what do you know about him?’ said Matt.

                ‘Not much, really. More about the girl.’

                Matt’s shoulders tensed up. ‘Yeah?’

                ‘She works for a local law firm; Nelson and Murdock. Big players in taking down Fisk a while back, made a lot of enemies. I suppose you know all about that though.’

                ‘From what I saw, she’s not involved in this.’

                ‘Okay, no help there. I could try running our friend’s plates. I doubt anything will turn up but I’ll give it a spin anyway.’

                ‘Sounds good, you do the paperwork and I’ll watch the streets.’ 

                Falcon looked him up and down, inquisitively.

                ‘I’m liking the suit, man. Are those horns?’

                Matt supressed a laugh.

                ‘Yeah, let’s just say I didn’t have creative control.’

                Falcon grinned from ear to ear and circled him, getting a better look.

                ‘Very nice.’

                Matt felt something more behind his appreciation that made him shift his weight, awkwardly.

                ‘I don’t wanna put too much pressure on you,’ said Sam, ‘but, can I ask?’

                Matt took a deep breath and a little smile appeared on his face. He turned his head away, mulling the request over.

                ‘I know you guys don’t have to hide your faces, especially now, but there’s a reason I do.’

                Sam put up his hands. ‘That’s cool, man. I completely get it.’

                Matt stroked the back of his head and turned his face towards the sky.

                ‘Uh, I actually am Matt Murdock.’

                The wind picked up for a second, sweeping past their rooftop moment. Sam’s mouth shifted through a dozen shapes.

                ‘I thought Matt Murdock was blind?’

                ‘I am blind.’ He remembered his conflict with Foggy. ‘Technically speaking. My eyes don’t work.’

                ‘Uhhh.’ Falcon’s lips seemed to be stuck in a permanent circle. ‘I gotta say I never would have guessed. So you’re actually blind? You’re not just pretending? Because that would be more than a little messed up.’

                Matt listened to the night.

                A few blocks away, ambulances had arrived to carry away the bodies and police were cornering off the alley. Other than that, it was quiet. The day was winding down, the city was tired and nervous, people were staying inside and they were alone.

                Matt pulled his helmet up slightly. Falcon took a step closer and peered into his eyes.

                ‘Damn. So you put Fisk away singed-handedly.’ Sam raised his eyebrows and puckered his lips. ‘Damn.’

                ‘I had a lot of help.’

                ‘Do your partners know?’

                ‘Only Foggy.’

                Sam was nodding. ‘Fair enough.’ He crossed his arms but uncrossed them again immediately. ‘Okay, I’ve gotta know. If you’re blind, how do you do this? I mean, you can see me now right?’

                Matt chewed on the back of his bottom lip. ‘I can’t properly see you. I can’t see what colour eyes you have. I can’t see an image on a screen. I can’t see the sky or the stars.’

                ‘Okay…’

                ‘But if it has weight I can see it. If it has presence, or scent. I can see a wall in front of my face but only by feeling that it’s cold, hearing the sound that bounces off it, feeling that it’s still and solid. It’s not like seeing it’s like… slotting puzzle pieces together and picturing it.’

                ‘Yeah, I’m following you.’

                ‘To put it simply, if you closed your eyes, and I swiped the air in front of your face, you’d know about it right. It’s something like that. I just know.’

                ‘Can you tell I’m nodding right now then?’

                ‘Yeah,’ laughed Matt.

                ‘So should I call you Matt or Daredevil?’

                ‘Uh, I don’t mind.’

                ‘How about D then?’

                Matt didn’t know quite what to say.

                ‘Will you be sticking around for a while then?’ he asked.

                Sam scratched his chin. ‘Yeah, just to lend a hand for a bit. Things sound pretty hot here lately and, let’s be honest, we don’t have the best rep in these parts.’

                ‘I’ll say, you levelled my favourite Indian.’

                Sam’s hands settled on the back of his head.

                ‘Oh, man, I know! Desi Deli?’

                Matt laughed, ‘yeah.’

                ‘I saw! I mean, I wasn’t there at the time, but I saw afterwards. And of course they left Nice ‘n’ Spice completely untouched. Like, not even a broken window.’

                ‘Why do bad things happen to good Indians,’ said Matt.

                Their laughter carried down to the apartments below.

                ‘So this is like community service for superheroes?’ he asked.

                Falcon nodded, still chuckling.

                ‘I’m from Harlem,’ he said, his smile fading. ‘Few years back, I get home, off tour, half the neighbourhood’s gone. Schools; community centres; half the clubs; just one big pile of rocks now. Before I know it I’m being shipped off again to “save the world.’

                ‘I’m sorry.’

                ‘Yeah, it sucks.’ Sam stretched his arms back. ‘I’m happy to help out here for as long as I can.’

                ‘How long will that be?’

                ‘Until the next global disaster. You know, aliens, robots, maybe zombies next time.’

                Matt liked him already.

                ‘So why do _you_ do it?’ Sam asked.

                Matt pause was a little too long.

                ‘Because I can.’

                Sam waited for him to continue.

                ‘I don’t think I could not do anything, knowing that I was perfectly capable of helping people. I don’t think I could let myself.’

                Matt’s words were punctuated by the crack of gunfire.

                ‘Shit,’ said Falcon, walking to the edge of the rooftop, he looked out over the city. Matt already knew where to go.

                ‘Come on,’ he said, breaking into a run.

                Sam’s wings unfurled and Matt felt a rush of air as he soared over his head. He pushed himself to keep up, leaping to the adjacent rooftop. He could hear Falcon flying far ahead but Matt knew exactly where to go and the quickest way to get there.

                When he arrived, a hint of blood tainted the air. They were outside Gao’s warehouse, long abandoned. The Punisher’s van lingered outside, engine running, a set of laboured lungs within. Falcon arrived, landing beside Matt, looking at him with incredulous eyes.

                ‘Are you even out of breath?’

                Matt grinned.

                ‘He’s down there, bleeding out,’ he said, nodding at the van.

                ‘Alright, let’s skip the paperwork.’ Sam took hold of Matt under the shoulders. ‘You good?’

                ‘Yeah.’

                They glided down towards the van and Matt felt like a toy prize in a claw crane machine. Sam let him down gently in front of the running van. Despite his laboured breathing, The Punisher’s heart beat steadily. Slumped in the driver’s seat, his clothes were dark and glistening with moisture. He wasn’t moving.

                ‘Help me get him out,’ said Sam. He opened the door on the driver’s side and a small wave of blood splashed onto the road. ‘Okay, maybe not. Fuck. How far are we from the nearest hospital?’

                ‘Too far,’ said Matt. He stretched out a hand and examined The Punisher’s wounds. He froze in place.

                ‘What are you doing?’

                He’d been stabbed once in each shoulder. One large puncture wound between two small ones. His skull badge had turned crimson and wore a bullet hole in the centre. Matt could sense fragments of metal littering Punisher’s organs. Each pulse of his heart rattled the shrapnel with its shockwave.

                ‘Matt?!’

                He took his hand away and turned off the engine, chucking the keys on the dash.

                ‘I’ll call my doctor. He should be dead.’

                Matt pulled out his phone and dialled Claire’s number. He could feel Falcon looking at him warily.

                ‘Okay.’

                Matt pressed the phone to his ear and the ringing started. Every pause radiated tension.

                ‘Hold on.’ Sam put some distance between himself and the van and pulled a handle under his wings. Matt felt a rush of air and heard him stagger backwards a few steps. Sam pulled out a small knife and dragged the parachute back to the van. ‘Gauze,’ he explained as he cut the flaccid parachute into strips.

                The phone went dead. No answer phone; Claire never needed one.

                ‘No answer,’ Matt said, quietly.

                Sam stuffed strips of nylon into free hand. ‘Right, we’re gonna bandage him up and then call an ambulance.’

                Matt could smell how much blood The Punisher had lost, could hear the shrapnel burrowing into his lungs with every ragged breath, could feel his body losing warmth and he knew an ambulance wouldn’t have a chance.

                The phone rang.

                ‘Claire?’

                ‘You either have the best or the worst timing.’

                There was a shake and a speed to her voice. Matt’s own heart began to race.

                ‘What is it? What’s going on?’

                Falcon’s eyes snapped up to Matt. 

                ‘I’ve got this kid at my place, dying on my couch.’

                Matt’s mouth went completely dry.

                ‘Where are you?’ he choked.

                Sam was leaning into the van, putting pressure on The Punisher’s wounds.

                ‘In Queens,’ said Claire, her voice cracking. ‘He’s like fifteen, Matt.’

                Matt’s lips were trembling.

                ‘Come on, man!’ urged Sam.

                ‘Claire.’ Matt’s willed himself to speak slowly. ‘There’s a guy here bleeding to death, a deep puncture wound in each shoulder; bullet wound over the heart; shrapnel close to one lung. I’ve got some strips of nylon and I’m not sure what else.’

                Punisher’s eyes snapped open. He grabbed Sam’s wrists. Their expressions mirrored one another until Sam pulled himself away. The Punisher was beginning to hyperventilate. He looked at them both with bulging eyes.

                ‘I died.’ He said it so quietly that Sam didn’t hear. Matt felt him staring.

                ‘I’ll be lucky if I can save this boy tonight, Matt. How about if you’re gonna keep running around out there in the middle of the night then you should start thinking of a way to take people to the fucking hospital like a regular person would!’

                Claire wasn’t shouting but her voice carried some sharp venom.

                The Punisher tried to get up but screamed instead and Falcon thought better of holding him down.

                ‘There’s a first aid kit under the seat,’ he grunted. Punisher wiped blood off his chin and spat the rest onto the dashboard. He gestured at the passenger seat with a quaking arm.

                ‘I’m sorry, Claire. I’m sorry. Take care of the kid.’ Matt’s throat felt like he’d swallowed acid.

                ‘I’m sorry too,’ she said, and then hung up.

                Matt put his phone away and rushed over to the passenger’s side, throwing open the door. He groped around under the seat, unable to quell his sudden sense of panic, before finding the box.

                ‘Pass it here,’ said The Punisher.

                Matt stretched over the seat and passed it to him. The Punisher’s hands shook as he opened it. The blood had soaked through his seat.

                Sam must have noticed too. ‘Is there anyone you want us to call?’

                Punisher looked up at the avenger with amusement on his face.

                ‘No, thanks.’ He turned away as he said it, focusing on the contents of the medical box.

                For a moment they were silent as The Punisher tried to thread a needle. Sam was about to say something, Matt could hear him grinding his teeth.

                ‘Where’d you serve?’ he said. 

                The Punisher ignored him so Sam puckered his lips and drifted backward.

                ‘This isn’t how I wanted us to meet,’ he said, weaving the needle through his skin. His eyes flicked up towards Matt. Falcon’s eyebrows dipped.

                ‘Who are you and what are you doing out here?’ said Matt.

                ‘The same as you. My name’s not important.’

                Falcon leaned with his back on the van and crossed his arms, looking towards the sky.

                ‘Okay, so what happened?’ asked Matt.

                The Punisher pulled off his ruined badge and held it in his palm, giving a ragged sigh before tossing it on the floor. He tore his crewneck down to inspect the bullet wound, a small but incredibly messy cavity. Sam peeked his head around to see and grimaced.

                ‘Well, as you can see, I got stabbed and I also got shot,’ he said. ‘Pass me some of them strips.’

                Matt handed them over. Punisher carelessly folded a scrap from his torn top and pressed it down over the hole. ‘Can you hold that for me?’ he said. Matt took a long breath and obliged. The Punisher growled as he leaned forwards in his seat. He tucked the end of one strip under his arm and began wrapping it around his torso, forming a tourniquet. Matt took his hand away and The Punisher finished tying it.

                ‘Thanks,’ he said.

                ‘Could you manage a bit more detail?’ asked Sam, scowling.

                The Punisher sighed, re-packing the first aid kit and tossing it to the floor. He spoke as if only Matt were there.

                ‘I got some intel that Fisk’s still making moves. No one could tell me what but a lot of guys were making special effort not to be around here tonight so I knew something was going on.’

                Matt listened to his heartbeat and searched the air for sweat. Something wasn’t right. 

                ‘Go on.’

                ‘When I got here there were just two guys inside. My guess is they _really_ didn’t want to be seen because I took one in the chest straight away and before I could return fire the other one throws these trident-dagger things at me.’

                ‘They’re called sais,’ said Matt.

                Sam and The Punisher looked over at him.

                ‘I can tell by your wounds.’

                ‘I must have only blacked out for a few seconds but the next thing I knew, they were gone. I don’t even remember getting back here.’

                There was an awkward silence where Matt expected him to keep talking.

                ‘There’s something you’re not telling us,’ he said.

                Sam came a bit closer. Matt could sense the change in Punisher’s blood pressure. He was hesitating.

                ‘It was a man and a woman. She had the d- the sais.’

                For a moment, Matt lost the ability to form words and Sam took over the interrogation.

                ‘What about the guy, what did he look like?’

                ‘Nothing special about him. White, around six foot, shaved head. I didn’t get a good look but I think he had a tattoo on his neck. Looked like crosshairs.’

                Falcon went stiff and looked over at Matt.

                ‘Could you ID them?’

                ‘Yeah.’

                Sam nodded and walked around the van to Matt’s side. Sam put a hand on Matt’s shoulder and guided him a few steps away.

                ‘I’m gonna have to take this guy in,’ he said, his voice barely a whisper.

                Matt gave a small nod and addressed The Punisher.

                ‘Do you want us to help you to a hospital?’ he asked.

                The Punisher’s expression was sour.

                ‘That’s a no,’ Sam muttered.

                ‘You’ve lost a lot of blood, I’m not sure if you’ll make it through the night otherwise,’ said Matt.

                ‘I’ve had worse,’ he replied. The Punisher twisted around in his chair grabbing something from the back of the van. Sam made to stride forwards but Matt stalled him with a hand. It was just a coat.

                Punisher pulled on a heavy black jacket, groaning as he lifted his arms through it.

                ‘It was a pleasure to meet you, Daredevil. Although I was hoping for something a little more equal.’

                Matt had no idea what to say and he could feel Sam’s heartrate picking up, its vibration passing through the palm of his hand, travelling up his arm.

                ‘Don’t let him leave,’ Sam whispered.

                The Punisher was looking around for his car keys.

                ‘We’re gonna need your help to find the people that attacked you,’ said Matt, walking back towards the van.

                The Punisher had his keys in hand.

                ‘Okay, get in the back and we’ll figure something out at my place.’

                Sam stepped forward, positioning himself in front of the van and Matt looked away, it was already over.

                ‘Actually it’d probably be better if you came with us, we have a set-up already.’

                The Punisher looked from Falcon to Daredevil, searching them. Matt stretched his arms and neck, it was going to be a long night. Falcon looked towards Matt for support and Matt nodded. The Punisher started his van.

                For a moment, the three men were silent. Waiting in the street for the other to make the first move, all of them aware of the coming storm. Punisher moved first.

                ‘Do you think I’m stupid?’

                He was asking Sam. Matt felt like an onlooker. 

                Sam ignored him again and turned to Matt, ‘give me a hand,’ and he walked towards the van. The Punisher put his foot down.

                The van started slowly and Sam was much quicker, he sprinted over to the passenger’s side. The Punisher reached over to shut the door but howled with pain as he stretched his arm too much. The van swerved recklessly as Sam leapt inside. The Punisher struck out at Sam whilst trying to regain control of the vehicle and it was easily deflected. Sam was going for the keys.

                Matt decided to get involved and caught up with the careening van.

                The Punisher headbutted Sam on the nose and Sam returned it with a strike to his wounded ribs. The Punisher roared and the van swerved hard to the right. Matt jumped, catching hold and hanging on the edge. Inside, Falcon landed punch after punch whilst The Punisher ignored him completely, a man made of only one thought – acceleration.

                Sam tried to tear him away from the pedal but the angle was bad and The Punisher was two hundred pounds of tensed muscle. Every blow Sam landed seemed to glance off with no effect. Matt took out his sticks. The Punisher’s eyes stared straight ahead. Falcon struck him again in the ribs, shouting at him to pull over. The van’s engine growled even louder and the street whipped past them in a blur.

                Matt closed his sticks around Falcon’s torso and jumped back, pulling him, fiercely, out of the speeding van. Together, they crumpled and rolled out onto the road and The Punisher drove away.

                ‘What the hell are you doing?’ Sam shouted, already staggering to his feet.

                ‘He was going to kill us all,’ Matt said, wiping a touch of blood from his lower lip, ‘follow him from a distance or he’s gonna get reckless and it’ll be our fault!’

                Sam was on his feet and breathing heavily. He glared at Matt but unfurled his wings. ‘Yeah,’ he mumbled.

                Matt brushed himself off. ‘Can I have a lift?’

                ‘Sure, but only to the top, I can’t carry you the whole way.’ Sam wrapped his arms around Matt’s chest and flew him to a nearby rooftop. Matt landed like a natural.

                ‘He’s that way,’ Matt said, pointing east. ‘Let’s follow until he stops and decide what to do then.’

                ‘Agreed.’ Falcon took off.

                Matt caught up with The Punisher’s and his van easily and he could sense Falcon flying nearby. The van moved calmly now, blending in between other vehicles. Together, the followed him to an apartment block where he went inside.

                Falcon landed beside him.

                ‘Is there any way we can follow him in there without being seen?’ he asked.

                ‘Me? Yes. You? Probably not,’ said Matt.

                Falcon shot him a sideways glance.

                ‘Hold on a second; let me listen for him.’

                Matt heard his ragged breathing and injured lungs. Heard him stagger through one door then another. Heard him open his fridge and take a long drink from a litre bottle.

                ‘That’s where he lives.’

                The Punisher sat down at his dining room table, a small, unpolished thing, and turned on his laptop.

                ‘What’s he doing?’ said Sam.

                ‘Nothing,’

                Sam’s body seemed to relax.

                ‘He’s just sitting down typing something out on his computer.’

                ‘Okay, well great, we know where he lives, mission accomplished.’

                ‘Hm?’ said Matt.

                ‘I’ll just go in there tomorrow and arrest him.’

                ‘What if he’s not in?’ Matt said, ‘what if he’s expecting you? What if he’s armed? What if the whole place is rigged to explode?’

                ‘Is it?’

                ‘No, but that’s not the point. He knows we want to bring him in and he might suspect we tracked him. We don’t have a huge advantage here and even though you can just walk in there and take him down, I can’t.’

                Sam thought the words over and ran a hand over his hair.

                ‘Alright, I’ll put the house under surveillance until we know more about him.’

                ‘How?’

                Sam paused, but only for a second.

                ‘Do you know about Black Widow.’

                ‘Vaguely, only theories and photos.’

                ‘Well,’ Sam chuckled, ‘she has been busy tailing someone already but I don’t think that’s necessary anymore.’

                Falcon watched Matt’s face, waiting for the reaction. Matt’s jaw dropped a little.

                ‘I’ve been under surveillance?’

                Sam chuckled again.

                ‘Yeah, it was for your own protection though.’

                ‘What made you think that was necessary?’

                ‘Well, first I just wanted to know a bit more about the whole Fisk scenario and what was going on there but then,’ something seemed to click in his mind. ‘Ohhhhh, shit.’

                ‘What?’ said Matt, impatiently.

                ‘I asked her to keep an eye on you because a few nights ago there was a sniper aiming at your apartment. A guy with a crosshairs tattoo on his neck. I got the jump on him but he shot out my goggles and disappeared.’

                ‘You mean she only started following me after you stopped the sniper?’

                ‘Yeah,’ said Sam.

                ‘I noticed someone before that. I guess now I know who.’

                ‘So he was right, Fisk has sent assassin’s after you.’

                Matt retreated into the shadows and pulled off his mask. He needed to feel fresh air against his face.

                ‘Just another day in Hell’s Kitchen,’ he said, laughing heartlessly.

                ‘Maybe I should introduce you to Natasha,’

                Matt tilted his head.

                ‘Black Widow.’

                ‘I don’t need a bodyguard, Sam.’

                ‘Are you sure? You were nearly murdered a few nights ago.’

                ‘No, I wasn’t.’

                Falcon was pouting.

                ‘But there is something you could do for me,’ said Matt, sliding his mask back on.

                ‘Keep an eye on my partner.’

                ‘Nelson?’

                ‘Yeah. Fisk will be going after both of us, maybe Karen too.’

                ‘Alright, but what are we gonna do about this guy?’ Sam gestured towards The Punisher’s apartment, benefitting Matt not at all.

                ‘If you and Black Widow can watch over my friends, I’ll deal with this guy.’

                ‘Are you sure you wanna be taking him on alone? Even though he didn’t say, I know a soldier when I see one.’

                Matt grinned.

                ‘That’s the beauty of having two identities. He won’t even know I’m there.’

                ‘Just make sure you call me if it looks like he’s going to go on another murder spree.’

                ‘Will do… How?’

                Sam held out his hand. ‘I’ll give you my number. I don’t need a burner so you can call me from any line at any time. There are perks to coming out of the closet too,’ he said, grinning at Matt, widely. When Falcon realised that Matt couldn’t see his smile it quickly turned into a subtle frown.

                ‘I’ll keep an eye on your partner for you and I’ll ask Natasha to look after Karen.’

                ‘Thank you, Sam.’ Matt extended his hand and Falcon shook it.

                Matt smiled and Sam’s felt hollow when he returned it.

                ‘If anything happens,’ said Sam, ‘call me and I’ll call Natasha, likewise, if anything happens on our end we’ll get hold of you.’

                They let their hands fall.

                ‘Are you heading back now?’ said Sam.

                ‘Yeah, I’m gonna go check on Karen first though.’

                ‘Shit, yeah you probably should. Alright then, don’t be a stranger.’

                Matt walked to the edge of the roof.

                ‘Thanks again, Sam.’

                Sam couldn’t decide whether to wave goodbye or not.

                Matt slipped off the rooftop and into the night.

*

When Matt arrived, Karen was sleeping soundly in her bed. At first he thought she had company but he quickly realised that she’d fallen asleep with the television on. Matt could hear her snoring blissfully. He fought the urge to sneak in and turn off the television for her.

                It was almost two am when Matt got home. Tomorrow, it would look like he was still hungover. He made a note to call Claire in the morning at the first chance he got and began pulling off his costume. His apartment still reeked of what he now realised was his assassin. He would need to get a safe.

                Matt removed the false bottom of his father’s box and packed his suit away. Stripped down to his underwear, he got halfway towards his bed before turning back around and getting the box out again. This time he didn’t remove the false bottom. Instead he rummaged through the boxing gear until he saw the envelope. It bore his name in a delicate script. She had pressed the pen down hard into the paper, specifically, so that he could still see it.

                Matt tried to swallow the lump in his throat.

                Someone walking in the corridor outside had stopped outside his door. They hesitated for a moment, and then knocked, quietly.

                ‘Matt.’

                The voice was barely a whisper.

                Matt packed the box away, letter included, and went to let Foggy in. He opened the door and Foggy’s eyebrows touched his hairline.

                ‘Where’s the party?’ he said, chuckling.

                Matt’s face was still.

                ‘You caught me unprepared,’ said Matt, standing aside to let his partner in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter will be posted on the 8th of September.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Foggy discovers the perks and cons to being Daredevil's best friend.

Foggy stepped into the apartment as Matt retreated into the bedroom, looking for some clothes that didn’t stink, a task that proved difficult.

                ‘What’s that smell?’ asked Foggy, sticking his nose in the air.

                ‘Don’t ask,’ said Matt, returning to the lounge in his pyjamas. ‘What’s up?’

                Foggy groaned and dragged himself over to Matt’s couch, slumping down into a sleepy heap. ‘Don’t overreact.’

                Matt prepared himself. ‘I won’t.’

                ‘I think someone’s following me,’ said Foggy.

                Matt sat opposite him. ‘What makes you think that?’

                ‘It’s just a feeling. Like I’m being watched all the time.’

                ‘Well, you are like a local celebrity around here now,’ said Matt.

                Foggy forced a small smile and nodded gently. ‘Do you mind if I stay here tonight?’

                ‘Of course not.’

                ‘How did it go at Riker’s?’

                Matt took a deep breath. ‘Foggy, you have a lot to catch up on.’

                Foggy yawned loudly and then leaned forwards, interlocking his fingers.

                ‘Can we have coffee first?’

                Matt smiled. ‘Sure, one sec.’ He got to his feet.

                When he returned, Foggy’s eyes were shut and his head, drooping. Matt set his mug down loudly on the coffee table between them, his smile growing wider.

                Foggy’s eyes snapped open. ‘I was reliving a moment.’

                ‘What moment?’ asked Matt, sitting back down.

                ‘Being asleep,’ he said, laughing to himself and bringing the coffee to his lips.

                It was the first familiar thing Matt had smelled since coming home.

                Foggy’s eyes closed again as he savoured his first sip, it was as if mahogany hands were massaging his shoulders. He moaned softly. Matt cleared his throat.

                ‘Okay, I’m ready,’ said Foggy, ‘fill me in.’

                Matt broke the news about Brett’s promotion first.

                ‘You know what? Good for him. Better Brett than another Blake, right?’

                Then he mentioned Brett’s hint about bringing in a supervising officer specifically to help Matt get around.

                ‘Sounds like they’re not letting you off the leash any time soon.’

                ‘Foggy,’ said Matt.

                ‘Matt?’ said Foggy.

                ‘This is where it gets important.’ Matt reflected the shift in conversation with a shift in his tone and Foggy’s face dropped its child-like optimism.

                ‘Okay, keep going.’

                ‘Earlier today Karen was attacked,’

                Foggy’s breathing changed and he opened his mouth to speak.

                ‘Let me explain,’ interrupted Matt, ‘she was attacked by a group that targeted her specifically for working for us. Probably related to all the corrupt cops we helped put away recently, or maybe some of Fisk’s leftover men.’

                ‘Right, but is she okay?’

                ‘I went to see her earlier and she was sleeping like a baby.’

                Foggy made a weird face but chose not to say anything.

                ‘She was saved by the new guy. The one in the news lately.’

                ‘Your protégé,’ said Foggy, gruffly.

                ‘After she was safe I followed him and I ran into someone.’ Matt couldn’t supress the smile that was building behind his lips.

                Foggy’s eyes narrowed when he realised Matt was holding back on him. ‘Who?’ he asked, impatiently.

                ‘I ran into one of The Avengers.’

                The optimism returned almost immediately.

                ‘Oh. My. God,’ said Foggy. He stood up and put a hand on his forehead. ‘Oh my god, which one?’

                ‘Sam Wilson.’

                ‘OH MY GOD YOU SAW THE FALCON OH MY GOD MATT.’ Foggy bounced around the room, his limbs flailing as if he were unable to decide what to do with them, his mouth hanging open in a soundless exclamation. Eventually, he returned to the couch and his coffee, with his hands clasped to his cheeks and his eyes wide. He continued to mutter ‘ohmygod, ohmygod, Falcon.’

                Matt was still laughing to himself when Foggy finally stopped muttering.

                ‘What was- I don’t- Just, what- How? Why?’ said Foggy, his hands covering half his face.

                Matt repeated Sam’s words about New York, community service and the killer in black.

                ‘Well, great!’ said Foggy, ‘If The Avengers are getting involved then you can give all this up. I mean, let’s be honest Matt, you’re good, and also, your suit is awesome, but Iron Man, the Hulk, Thor? I’m pretty sure they can handle it.’

                Matt scowled.

                ‘I didn’t explain properly, it’s not The Avengers it’s just Falcon and Black Widow and they’re not here to fix everything, just to help out while they’ve got nothing bigger going on. This city still needs me, Foggy, and it always will, because no one else cares about it as much as I do.’

                ‘I wonder if the killer in black feels the same way?’

                ‘We’re nothing alike, just ask the living, breathing Wilson Fisk.’

                Foggy raised his eyebrows, conceding the point.

                ‘There’s more,’ said Matt, ‘the killer got away, but he did give us some information.’

                ‘Right?’ pressed Foggy.

                ‘We _are_ being followed. Fisk has two assassins stalking us.’

                Matt sensed cold sweat appear on the back of Foggy’s neck and palms.

                ‘Since when?’

                ‘A few days, we think.’

                ‘But he’s in Riker’s how is he still pulling strings.’

                ‘Well, either his network is bigger than we ever thought it could be, or there’s someone else out there, acting on his behalf.’

                ‘They never caught James Wesley, maybe it’s him.’

                Matt nodded slowly. ‘He’s someone to keep an eye out for.’

                ‘And what about Fisk’s girlfriend?’

                ‘No sign of her either but I heard a rumour that Fisk had her whisked away to Israel.’

                Foggy puffed air in exasperation.

                ‘Okay so at least we have suspects. What about the assassins who are they?’

                ‘I’m not sure but I’m having Hoffman keep an ear out to find out anything he can about them.’

‘So we have no idea who the shooter or the ninja are or where to find them.’

                Matt was thankful that Foggy didn’t have his extra-sensitive hearing.

                ‘No.’

                Foggy took another sip of his coffee and stared into the mug, his face still, his eyes deep in thought.

                ‘If they’ve been following us for days is there a reason we’re not dead yet?’

                Matt nodded and described how he’d been woken up by a bullet piercing his window and explained how Falcon had saved him.

                ‘You nearly died and you didn’t think to tell me?’

                ‘To be honest, Foggy, it’s not that I was keeping it from you, it’s more that I was so hungover that it was difficult to care until well into the evening.’

                Foggy snorted.

                ‘So does Falcon know you’re Daredevil? I mean, does he know that Daredevil and Matt Murdock are one and the same?’

                Matt laughed briefly at the ridiculousness and complexity of the situation.

                ‘He didn’t then because we hadn’t met but now he does.’

                ‘Oh, so you tell The Falcon you’re secret identity straight away but your best friend gets lied to for ten years?’

                ‘The first time’s always the hardest,’ joked Matt.

                ‘Ha ha,’ said Foggy, finishing his coffee. ‘So if you’ve got The Falcon watching your back then who saved my life without me knowing? Was it Captain America? Please say it was Captain America.’

                ‘Uhhh, no one. You’ve just been lucky.’

                Foggy looked horrified.

                ‘But I asked Falcon to keep an eye on you from now on.’

                All traces of terror vanished from Foggy’s face, replaced by an expression of awe.

                ‘And he said he’d ask Black Widow to look after Karen, just in case she gets caught up in this too.’

                ‘This is so cool and so terrifying at the same time,’ said Foggy, ‘and to think I was going to suggest hiring some security at the office.’

                ‘I’m glad we don’t have to resort to that. I feel like it would scare off some of our clients, make us seem less welcoming and more intimidating than we should be. We’re affordable, local lawyers, not another Landman and Zach.’

                ‘Yeah, good point. But we have all this money now, from Doris,’ Foggy put his fingers to his lips and looked at the ceiling, ‘ _and_ from all our new clients. All I wanna do is buy a ton of new toys.’

                ‘I know, buddy, we’ll find you something.’

                ‘You know, maybe we could get The Avengers to endorse us, imagine how good for business that would be.’

                ‘Yeah,’ laughed Matt, ‘nothing says “come on in” like a literal green giant.’

                ‘No, but seriously, imagine having Captain America as our doorman. Who wouldn’t trust Captain America, I mean, come on.’

                ‘Foggy.’

                ‘Even if it was only for an hour.’

                ‘I didn’t know you went in for older men, Foggy?’ said Matt, grinning widely.

                ‘Hey,’ Foggy pointed a finger at him, ‘I support our veterans.’

                They laughed together like only best friends do.

                ‘I did think of you when I met Falcon,’ Matt said, twirling his empty mug in his hands, ‘I mean, I hate that this part of my life is separate from you, especially when you miss out on the good bits. Like, when I got my new suit, the first thing I wanted to do was ask you what you thought.’

                ‘It’s grown on me,’ said Foggy, smiling mischievously, ‘it’s just the little horns that I would have changed.’ He made his fingers into little horns for his head like a kid pretending to be a bull. ‘Were they your idea?’

                ‘I-’

                ‘Matt?’

                ‘What?’

                There was a moment of hesitation where the only sound in Matt’s apartment was the wind squeezing through the bullet hole.

                ‘Can I try it on?’

                ‘My suit?’

                ‘No, no, no, of course not,’ said Foggy, waving his hand in dismissal. ‘Just the helmet.’

                ‘Really?’

                ‘Yeah, come on! I’m still not over-’ clutched at his heart, ‘ _the betrayal_. But this… I feel like this will really help. Help me to move on. You know like a “see things from your perspective” type deal.’

                ‘There are no eyeholes, Foggy.’

                ‘That is something I can live with.’

                Matt sighed, laughed and got up. He disappeared for a second into the wardrobe and when he returned to Foggy, by the couch, the helmet was in his hands. He passed it to his friend. Foggy held it in his hands and looked at the hollow face with an air of reverence. He put it on, slowly, until it covered his head.

                ‘It’s tight,’ said Foggy, fiddling with its position, ‘and heavier than I thought it would be.’

                Matt nodded, he wished he could have seen Foggy properly.

                ‘Do you do a voice?’ Foggy asked.

                ‘Maybe. A little? It’s more like a tone,’ said Matt, scratching the back of his head, suddenly bashful.

                ‘What’s it, like,’ Foggy put on a gravelly voice, ‘ _who do you work for?’_

                Matt couldn’t stop himself from laughing and Foggy struck a pose. Illuminated by the giant advert outside Matt’s apartment, he parodied a fighting stance.

                ‘ _Tell me where the bombs are,’_ he growled, threatening an imaginary opponent.

                Matt cradled his abs, doubling over from laughter as Foggy suplexed the invisible attacker. He narrowly avoided falling over the coffee table.

                Foggy turned in what he thought was Matt’s direction.

                ‘Do you have catchphrases?’ he asked, gleefully.

                ‘No, are you serious?’ said Matt, shaking his head with a smile.

                ‘Oh yeah, you need some, pal.’ He pretended to kick someone in the face. ‘Get up again, I _dare_ you.’

                Matt buried his face in his hands but he couldn’t hide his grin.

                ‘I’ll let you use that one,’ said Foggy. He pretended to uppercut someone. ‘Looks like you just got blindsided. Man, these are gold.’

                Matt was nearly on his knees with laughter, steadying himself with a hand on the coffee table. ‘I’m dying,’ he cried out.

                ‘No mercy,’ said Foggy, doing his best to feign apathy with a gruff tone. He sent out another karate kick and managed to send his coffee mug soaring. ‘Shit!’ Foggy scrunched himself up, waiting for the smash. When it didn’t come, he pulled the helmet off and looked around.

                Matt had the mug in his hands.

                ‘I’ve got you covered,’ he said, grinning widely. He set the mug back down on the table and collapsed on the couch, still nursing his ruined abs. Foggy joined him, the mask in his hands.

                ‘Did you get this off the internet too?’

                ‘No,’ breathed Matt, ‘it’s a long story.’

                ‘No problem, let’s hear it.’

                ‘You know, you’re way more into this than I thought you’d be.’

                ‘Well,’ Foggy sighed, ‘honestly, I think I’m trying to distract myself from A, what would happen if people ever find out that you’re Daredevil, legally, and B, what would happen if anyone ever found out you’re Daredevil, personally.’

                Matt went quiet and Foggy was summoning the courage to continue.

                ‘When I found you half dead and I called your doctor friend. She had a lot of cuts and bruises. Do you know how she got them?’

                ‘It keeps me up at night. Foggy, I don’t know if I’m doing the right thing. I don’t know if there is a right thing at this point. For now, I’m just going to do what I can.’

                ‘If you’re on the same side as The Avengers you must be doing something right.’

                Matt laughed a little and nodded. ‘Maybe,’ he said, leaning back on the couch and yawning. ‘What are you up to tomorrow?’

                ‘Er, I’m going out for lunch with Marci. How about you?’

                ‘I think I’m gonna head over to Riker’s again and see if I can dig something up about those two assassins. Hoffman might not have seen them but someone has, and there’s a record of visitors somewhere.’

                ‘You know what else you should do,’ said Foggy, leaning closer to Matt. ‘ _Tell Karen.’_

                Matt let out a long groan. ‘But I don’t want things to chaaaange.’

                ‘You don’t get to make that decision, pal. You have to give her a choice, or you’re no better than Fisk, controlling everyone around him.’

                Matt gave Foggy a look.

                ‘Okay, that was an exaggeration. Now I am going to bed, are you coming?’

                ‘Yeah, I’ll just lock up here and then I’ll be in.’

                Foggy got up from the couch and headed for the bedroom whilst Matt locked the windows and doors. Matt even put a chair in front of the entrance to his apartment. It wouldn’t stop anyone from getting in, if they really wanted to, but it would slow them down long enough to give him time to react.

                When Matt walked into his bedroom, Foggy was already in bed, the blanket pulled over his shoulders. Matt moved his cane to his side of the bed and got undressed, hanging his clothes on the edge of his desk chair. He turned off the light, stepped over Foggy’s clothes, and got into bed.

                They lay there in the dark for a while, before Foggy rolled over to face him.

                ‘Matt?’

                ‘Yeah?’

                ‘I’m sure I’m going to regret saying this, but, can you… you know… see through people’s clothes?’

                ‘Uhh,’ said Matt, ‘you know how they say that ignorance is bliss?’

                Foggy cringed and Matt grimaced.

                ‘Back before I could control my senses. I experienced a lot of things I wouldn’t wish on anyone.’ Matt paused and cleared his throat. ‘Stick taught me that I wasn’t disabled but, sometimes, not often, I still feel cursed.’

                Foggy looked at his friend, sadly, and tried to put himself in his position.

                ‘Chin up, pal,’ he said, patting Matt on the shoulder, ‘it’s not all bad. You’re one of the few lucky people that gets to see me naked.’

                If Matt had still been drinking coffee he would have just spat it out onto the bed. He laughed and Foggy laughed with him. Foggy yawned again, interrupting himself.

                ‘Just don’t tell Marci,’ he said, his eyelids sliding to a close.

                Matt felt his friend’s heartbeat even out into a steady rhythm and heard his breathing turn to snoring. He rolled over and tried not to think about Elektra.

 

*

 

He woke up to Foggy dragging himself out of bed and plodding towards the bathroom in his underwear. Judging be the temperature, Matt could tell it was early morning and there was a drip in his room. Rainwater had soaked through the cardboard bandage and leaked onto the laminate of Matt’s floor. Foggy walked through the puddle and splashed water across the floor. He stopped and stared at the puddle with half-open eyes before slouching the rest of the way to the bathroom.

                Matt rolled over and tried to ignore the tinkling sound. It worked until rainwater splashed his face and then he had to pull the blanket over his head. That worked until Foggy clicked on the bathroom light and called out his name.

                ‘Matt, what the hell is this?’

                Matt groaned and threw the blanket off his face. ‘What’s what? I’m blind.’

                Foggy stepped out of the bathroom and pointed back towards it. ‘On the mirror?’ he prompted.

                Matt threw his hands up, ‘I’m blind, I don’t use mirrors.’

                Suddenly Foggy was wide awake. ‘This isn’t funny Matt, there’s a bullseye sprayed on your mirror!’

                Matt’s face remained a blank slate. ‘No idea, that’s unnerving.’

                ‘Yes, yes it is.’

                ‘Did you remember to lock your door last night?’

                Matt groaned and hid under his blanket again. ‘It didn’t happen last night.’ His voice muffled by the silk sheets. ‘Someone broke in the day before yesterday.’

                Foggy growled at him and his voice took on a wealth of sarcasm. ‘You know, I thought that, now that I know you’re biggest secret, there’d be no need for you to keep things from me anymore. Oh, how well that turned out.’

                ‘I’m not keeping anything from you, Foggy, it just slipped my mind.’ Said Matt, popping his head out.

                ‘Oh, like how nearly getting killed in your own bed slipped your mind?’

                ‘Well, yeah,’ said Matt. He pushed the blanket away and slid his legs over the side of the bed. ‘I didn’t tell you in the morning because we were both practically zombies and I didn’t tell you last night because there were so many other things I wanted to talk to you about.’

                Foggy grumbled at him and collected his clothes off the floor.

                ‘Are you grumbling at me because you forgive me?’ said Matt.

                Foggy’s grumbling intensified.

                ‘I can only assume that’s a yes,’ said Matt, stretching his limbs out and following up with a wide yawn.

                ‘To be honest, I’m not sure whether you’re just placating me or not.’

                Matt frowned and when Foggy saw him he sighed and looked at the floor.

                ‘What kind of God gives such an innocent face to such a dangerous man?’ said Foggy, shaking his head gently.

                Matt suppressed his smile, not wanting to shorten Foggy’s momentary weakness.

                ‘I’m sorry, Foggy, I’ll try to keep you more informed in future, especially regarding my mortality.’

                Foggy’s grumbling continued, albeit slightly quieter.

                ‘Where are you going for lunch?’ said Matt. Foggy stopped buttoning his shirt and turned to face Matt.

                ‘Are you seriously not worried that we’re being hunted by assassins, one of whom broke into your home and left a calling card in your bathroom?’

                ‘Not really. I mean, I guess the effect is supposed to be that I see myself in the mirror as if I’m being targeted but how good can he really be if he’s been following me this whole time and thinks the best threat to send is one that I won’t even see?’ said Matt, trying to fight off hysterics.

                Foggy looked at his friend, failing to hold back laughter. ‘You’re messed up, Murdock,’ he said, lazily knotting his tie. ‘I’m going home, to use a shower that isn’t most likely filled with miniature cameras and microphones.’

                ‘I dunno, that sounds pretty optimistic to me,’ laughed Matt. Foggy shot him an icy stare.

                ‘Are you gonna do anything about that,’ asked Foggy, pointing towards the bathroom again, ‘or are you just going to sit there, laughing to yourself in your underwear?’ His tone was prickly enough to cut Matt’s laughing fit short.

                Matt cleared his throat. ‘Yes, I’m going to go to Riker’s, like I said, and see if I can get a name for this guy.’

                ‘So you’re not going to do anything different?’

                ‘I don’t really know what else I can do, Foggy. Riker’s is the only lead I have.’ Matt stood up and put a dressing gown on, he was freezing. ‘I’ll update Falcon and tell him to stay on his toes.’

                ‘That’s more like it,’ said Foggy, pulling on his shoes.

                Matt rolled his eyes and Foggy scowled.

                ‘Where are you going for lunch today?’ said Matt.

                ‘I don’t know yet,’ said Foggy, ‘but now I’m thinking somewhere with a lot of security.’

                ‘Maybe you could invite Karen along?’

                Foggy looked like someone had presented him with an Escher sketch. ‘Karen and Marci? Uhhh, let me shake my magic eight ball, let’s see “signs point to yes”. Looks I’m being played, yet again.’  

                Matt wasn’t really sure what Foggy was saying or what kind of response was expected from him.

                ‘Soooo, you don’t like that idea?’

                ‘Matt, you’ve met Marci.’

                Matt nodded solemnly.

                ‘She doesn’t like it when plans change suddenly. Plus, she’ll start asking questions. Frankly, buddy, if that happens, I’m not sure I’d hold up under pressure.’ He changed his tone. ‘Who knows what delicate, intimate secrets might come tumbling out.’

                ‘You’re supposed to be a lawyer.’

                ‘Exactly, exactly! I do the interrogating I’m not the… interrogatee.’ 

                ‘Alright, forget I mentioned it. I’m sure she’ll be okay in Black Widow’s hands anyway.’

                Foggy didn’t respond even though Matt could hear that he wanted to.

                ‘Do you think I’ll get to meet them or will I just have to settle for feeling their presence?’ asked Foggy.

                ‘I’m not sure and I’m not sure what you should hope for either.’

                ‘What do you mean?’

                ‘I imagine if you ever do meet them then it’ll be because something really bad’s about to happen.’

                Foggy pulled on his coat and approached Matt, placing a hand on each shoulder and looking into his ornamental eyes. ‘It would be worth it, Matt,’ he said, patting him on the shoulder.

                Matt rolled his eyes and Foggy headed for the door.

                ‘Good luck at Riker’s, pal. Say hello to the _lieutenant_ for me.’ Foggy spoke the word with a big grin on his face.

                Matt gave him a wave as Foggy left the apartment. Matt waited, still facing the door. Foggy re-opened it and popped his head through the gap.

                ‘And tell Karen,’ he said, retreating just as quickly as he’d intruded.

                ‘Goodbye, Foggy!’ called Matt, speaking over the sound of the door closing again.

                Matt sighed and it quickly turned into a yawn. He padded around his apartment, unsure of how to occupy himself before he went to ask for Brett’s help again. Eventually, he dragged himself into the shower. It was the thought of the bullseye on his mirror, something he couldn’t sense yet clearly remained there, that reminded him of Nobu.

                Not even the subsequent beating Fisk gave him was as humbling as fighting Nobu. It was the first time, since becoming the man in the black mask, that Stick’s voice had resurfaced in his head. A twenty-year echo.

                _Rage is a wildfire, out of control, therefore useless._

                It was the first time he’d ever been outmatched and paid for it. The first time he realized how small he was. One man in a world of gods and monsters. As the steam filled the bathroom Matt began to notice the spray paint, its smell enhanced by the hot air – sour and choking. The mirror had been there when he moved in. An event that felt like years ago now. Matt lathered over the scar on his torso, a thick white line stretching from one kidney to another.

                After washing his hair, he stepped out of the shower, ignoring the cold. He had never found a towel to his liking, all of them too brittle and rough. Instead, he drip-dried while brushing his teeth and shaving his face. Now that the steam had completely enveloped the room, all Matt could smell was the target on his mirror. He took his toothbrush out of his mouth and set it down on the side of the sink. Matt hooked his fingers around the mirror, prying into the gap behind them, and he pulled. If his feet had still been wet, Foggy probably would have found him and half of his brains laid out on the white tiles days later. Matt tore the mirror away from the wall and it vomited dust and flecks of concrete into his face. Something he’d clean up later.

                Matt turned the mirror around, facing it towards the wall and set it down. The newly exposed brick work clashed furiously with the pristine, white of the rest of his bathroom, something Stick would surely approve of. Matt shook dust and water out of his hair and went to get dressed.

                Matt replaced the cardboard patch on the window and threw the ruined one away. Surprisingly, now that he could afford to fix domestic issues like this he felt less inclined to. He told himself it had nothing to do with Sticks visit. He made himself a coffee and dialled Karen’s number.

                ‘Good morning, Karen,’ said Matt, tentatively sipping his coffee.

                ‘Hey, Matt, what’s up?’

                Her voice was clear and he could hear her walking down the street; someone walking their dog, engines running, pigeons cooing. Karen sounded refreshed and wide awake, apparently unscathed by the events of last night.

                ‘I was just wondering if you had any plans today because I have to make another trip to Riker’s and Foggy’s going out to lunch with Marci.’

                Karen made a hissing sound that she probably didn’t intend for Matt to hear.

                ‘You need me to cover for you at the office?’

                ‘Yeah, if you can,’ said Matt. He could hear her shoes tapping on the pavement.

                ‘Sure, I’m just on my way to the shop at the moment but I’ll head over there straight after.’

                ‘Thanks, Karen,’ said Matt, ‘and stay out of trouble.’

                Karen let out a laugh that trailed off at the end.

                ‘You too. Bye!’

                She hung up on him. Matt tool another sip of his coffee, pouting. He stood at his kitchen counter for a while, thinking it over, before getting his burning phone and calling Falcon. He answered on the second ring.

                ‘What’s up?’ said Sam.

                ‘Not much, I was just wondering how everything’s going on your end.’

                ‘Wow, Murdock, we only spoke last night, clingy much?’

                ‘Uhhh, so everything’s good then?’

                Sam laughed down the line.

                ‘Yep, we’re good, your partner’s been at home for the last hour or so, although he did look pretty rough when he got in.’

                ‘That’s nothing to worry about,’ said Matt.

                ‘Oh reeeeally?’

                Matt felt blooding rising to the surface of his cheeks and suddenly appreciated being alone in his apartment.

                ‘We’re partner in law only,’ he said, fiddling with his coffee mug.

                ‘Alright then.’

                Matt could feel Sam’s grin through the phone.

                ‘Erm, so Foggy’s going out for lunch later, I don’t know where but he shouldn’t be too difficult to find and I asked Karen to cover at the office today so she shouldn’t be any trouble either.’

                ‘Okay, no problem. I’ll let Natasha know.’

                ‘Thanks again, Sam. Let me know if there’s anything I can do to make us even.’

                ‘Nah, don’t worry about it. I’m just doing my job really,’ he chuckled.

                ‘Still, it puts my mind at ease to know you’re looking out for them.’

                ‘Stop right there, you’re gonna make a black man blush.’

                If anyone had been in the room in that moment they could have read Matt’s face like an open book. There was a short silence before Falcon realised that Matt wasn’t sure what to say

                ‘If anything comes up I’ll let you know straight away,’ he said.

                Matt thanked him one more time and hung up. He fiddled with his tie for a moment, still standing with his coffee at the kitchen counter. Not even Foggy had flirted with him so brazenly. He paced listlessly around his apartment for a minute, uncertain of what he had planned to do next, until he put his foot through the puddle and kicked rainwater across the floor. Matt closed his eyes and again thanked God that no one was around to see him.

                He mopped up the puddle with an old tea towel and left a wok in its place to catch the inevitable leak. He still couldn’t be bothered to phone for a replacement window. After cleaning up the mess he pulled on a coat, grabbed his cane, put on his glasses and left, double-checking that he’d locked up after himself.

                It was a cold day outside. The sky strewn with clouds and Hell’s Kitchen drooped under their shadow. Before starting the day, Matt went out for a cooked breakfast – sausage, scrambled eggs and bacon. After he’d finished, dabbing around his mouth with a napkin, he called John Smith and asked for a ride to the precinct in fifteen minutes from outside the Morning Sun café. He arrived late but Matt didn’t mind; he was in no rush to confirm his worst thoughts.

                The clouds were getting heavier. It would rain from when he and Brett crossed the bridge to Riker’s until the sun went down. John greeted him with genuine enthusiasm and once again ran around to the passenger’s side to open the door for the blind man.

                ‘Same again?’ he asked, securing himself in the driver’s seat.

                ‘Yep,’ said Matt.

                The cab was warm and stuffy to the point where Matt was pretty sure he could smell as far as three weeks back. Matt put his cane between his legs and leaned on it, listening to the outside world pass him by as they glided through the streets of Hell’s Kitchen. The road Matt usually took was still closed for police inspection so John took them round it again. The roads seemed quieter today, almost as if the neighbourhood anticipated disaster, or perhaps it was just the bad weather, slowly encroaching on their lives.

                ‘You feeling alright today, pal?’ asked John, one eye remaining on the road.

                Matt let out a long sigh.

                ‘I’m being reminded of a lot of bad memories today,’ he said.

                ‘Ah.’ John nodded, knowingly. ‘Always the way with days like this.’

                Matt agreed halfheartedly and resisted the urge to squash his face against the cold window.

                ‘Fuck sake,’ said John, bringing the cab to a sudden stop.

                Matt had known this was coming.

                ‘Sorry about this, they’ve gone and closed this one too.’

                They were turning away from the street where Karen had been ambushed. Matt shrugged.

                ‘Mind if I roll down the window?’ he said.

                ‘Hey, whatever you want. Careful though, looks like rain soon.’

                Air, not exactly fresh but still an improvement, rushed through the open window and blew away some of the smog that had collected around Matt’s head. The cool, damp breeze made him feel more refreshed than his morning shower had but, although his brain felt lighter, her name remained. It sounded over and over in his head like a loved one’s last words, Elektra, Elektra, Elektra. The persistence of it burrowed under his skin with ease, squeezing between his muscles and pricking his nerves with hot irons. His entire body seemed to burn from the inside. Matt leaned closer to the open window. John watched him, cautiously, until they arrived outside Brett’s precinct.

                ‘Should I expect you again tomorrow, Mr…?’

                ‘Murdock,’ said Matt, unbuckling himself, ‘and I hope not.’

                John, once again, rushed around to open the door for Matt and, once again, Matt thanked him in the politest tone he could manage.

                They said goodbye and Matt headed up the steps into the old police building.

                Brett was not happy to see him.

                Matt stood at reception, patiently, whilst Brett pretended to bang his head repeatedly on the desk.

                ‘Ruined,’ he cried, ‘my whole day ruined!’

                ‘I’m sorry, Brett, but this is really important and I need you.’

                Brett’s act had drawn every eye in the room over to them and the officer working reception was gradually slinking away from the scene.

                ‘I bet you say that to all the people whose days you ruin,’ said Brett, his face smushed against the countertop.

                Matt didn’t say anything until Brett looked up at him.

                ‘Well I’m not gonna lie to you.’

                ‘Really?’ said Brett, ‘I thought that was all you lawyers were good for.’

                The receptionist chuckled so Matt shot them a warning glare, pointing his eyes in their direction until they cleared their throat and buried themselves in the shuffling of files.

                ‘How long is this going to take?’

                ‘I’m not sure; there’s a lot I need to do up there.’

                Brett eyed him suspiciously and finally stood up straight.

                ‘You’re not going to get me dragged into anything, are you?’

                ‘Why not? It worked out so well for your last time,’ said Matt, gesturing with his cane to the new, and still shiny, silver bar on Brett’s uniform.

                Brett grumbled and came out from behind reception, slouching his way outside.

                ‘I can’t wait to see the look on your face when the new officer gets here,’ he said, hopping down the steps onto the street. It was already beginning to rain. Matt hadn’t expected Brett to bash his head against the counter for so long. Together, they got into Lieutenant Mahoney’s cruiser. Brett didn’t try opening Matt’s door for him.

                ‘I’m serious when I say this is the last, last, last time.’

                ‘I believe you,’ Matt lied.

                They set off towards the prison, quicker than they had before. The hairs on the back of Matt’s neck were beginning to rise, alerted by encroaching thoughts of her. He was saved by a buzz in his pocket and a text from Sam.

                _K has friend with her at office._

He had a moment of hesitation where the ethics of their actions suddenly popped up in his mind. It was replaced by confusion as to who this friend might be.

                _Description of friend?_

                _Twenties, woman, black, short hair._

Matt could think of only one person Karen might have known that looked like that; Jean Urich. He pocketed his phone and tried not to think about Elektra.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter will be posted on Tuesday the 15th.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Karen does some digging with the help of Jean Ulrich and Matt gets an unusual request from Claire.

Jean took off her coat and sat down while Karen made coffee. She put her laptop bag under the table.

‘This is the cosiest office I’ve ever seen,’ she said, looking around the room.

‘Matt and Foggy like it this way,’ said Karen, stirring in some sugar, ‘they want it to look welcoming instead of intimidating.’ Karen smiled, ‘Foggy says “the law lives here so it should look like a home”.’

‘My sister’s money’s been well spent, I suppose.’

Karen’s hands froze upon hearing the words but she quickly regained control.

‘Actually, we haven’t done anything with that yet.’

Jean tilted her head.

‘We want to save it for something more worthwhile, something they’d be proud of.’

Karen set their mugs down on the coffee table.

‘Well I can’t wait to see what you think is worth my sister dying.’

The blood left Karen’s face and words failed her. Jean blew at the steam rising from her mug.

‘I’m kidding, Karen,’ she said, leaning forwards and touching her hand. ‘Doris would have wanted nothing more than for the money to go to the people that helped put away Ben’s killer, you know that.’

Some of the colour came back to Karen’s face but her voice was quiet.

‘Yeah, I know.’

‘I’ll admit, Karen, when we first met at the hospital, I thought you were a bit weird and kind of annoying.’

‘Umm…’

‘Like, honestly, I thought you just there to work out your guilt. But you actually connected with my sister. I mean, the amount of times I came by to find you both there, giggling away, because I’d “just missed the funniest thing” was actually pretty irritating, but endearing too.’

‘Thanks, I’m, er, almost flattered,’ said Karen.

Jean laughed and sipped her coffee.

‘What I’m trying to say is, I want to get to know you better. I want to see what they saw in you. I don’t want to miss out.’

Karen smiled softly.

‘You know, sometimes I think I’m not cut out for this place,’ she focused on her coffee as she spoke with only a flicker of a glance towards Jean.

‘New York?’

Karen shook her head. ‘No, here, at the office, with Matt and Foggy.’

Jean crossed her legs and leaned back in her chair, holding her coffee close to her chest as if she were cupping her own heart.

‘How come?’

‘You know how kind Foggy is. He’d do anything to help someone that needed it. And Matt’s the same, just a little rougher around the edges.’ Karen looked at her coffee as if she had no idea why she’d even bothered to make it. ‘I’m not like that,’ she said.

‘Neither are they,’ said Jean. She squeezed Karen’s hand and tried to catch her eye. ‘You shouldn’t try to compare yourself to them when you know all of your shames and secrets and none of theirs.’

They smiled at one another.

‘Is that why I’m here?’ asked Jean, reaching for her laptop, ‘to reveal some secrets?’

Karen watched her movements. ‘Yes but it’s not what you’re thinking.’

Jean’s mouth became an instant pout.

‘I need you to help me find someone,’ said Karen, something glinting behind her eyes.

Jean closed her eyes and muttered something Karen couldn’t hear.

‘This is going to be something illegal and dangerous, isn’t it?’

Karen gave a guilty smile. ‘Do you wanna hear me out first?’

Jean groaned and tried to avoid Karen’s focused eyes by examining every corner of the office. She gave a quick nod and knew she would regret it. ‘Yeah.’

The guilt left Karen’s face.

‘Okay, you’ve heard about all the criminals being murdered lately, right?’

Jean looked taken aback. ‘Murders, already?’ she cried.

Karen ignored her outburst and continued, too animated to stop.

‘Well, last night, I was jumped by some guys and just as they’re about to drive off with me, someone shoots every single one of them and helps me get away.’

Jean’s eyes had narrowed. ‘Okay… there’s a new lunatic on the block then?’

Karen frowned. ‘I want you to help me find out who he is.’

Jean set down her coffee and drummed her fingers on the table three times. ‘Why?’ she said, looking Karen in the eye. ‘Why do you want to know who he is? If it’s just out of curiosity then I’m not helping you.’

Before Karen could get a syllable out Jean added, ‘because curiosity murdered the cat, Karen.’

Karen went back to frowning for a moment and fiddled with her coffee mug. Eventually, she spoke up. ‘He’s provocative,’ she said, watching Jean’s expression carefully, ‘he’s far too dangerous to be ignored because the longer he’s out there and the more people he kills the bigger the backlash is going to be against him and others like him.’

‘Aaah,’ said Jean, nodding slowly, ‘so, it’s him you’re worried about, really.’

Karen met her gaze, defiantly.

‘So you want to stop this guy before it gets out of hand. How are you gonna do that?’ Jean asked.

Karen had barely touched her coffee.

‘If we can find out who he is then we can expose him and he’ll either have to run or turn himself in.’

‘Expose him how? Like on the internet?’

‘If that’s what it takes,’ said Karen.

Jean leaned back in her chair and thought it over, playing with her earing. ‘Okay, where should we start?’ She pulled out her laptop and squeezed herself onto Karen’s chair so they could both face the screen.

‘Well we could start by checking previous convictions in the police database and I’ll look through the pictures to see if I can find him.’

Jean looked at Karen, nearly bumping their noses together. ‘Let’s keep it as “you and me” for now, I’m not ready for “we”. Maybe when I’m a bit more certain that this won’t get me killed.’

Karen returned Jean’s look and tried to ignore how good she smelled. ‘You don’t have to get involved, Jean. I could always learn to do this myself.’

Jean scoffed, breaking the atmosphere. ‘Not in time, you couldn’t,’ she said, typing in her password.

‘I do have one more question though,’ said Jean, ‘am I the only person you’ve told or are the boys in on this too?’

Karen’s expression gave Jean her answer.

‘Why not?’ she asked. Karen avoided her eyes before answering.

‘You said one question.’

‘Hmmm,’ said Jean, turning back to her laptop. ‘If we’re gonna go through every single photo to find this guy, I’m gonna need more coffee.’

‘Sure,’ said Karen, wiggling her way off the seat. She collected Jean’s mug and left her for the coffee station.

Karen had made two more rounds of coffee before they reached the end of the list and for all of their searching they were no closer to identifying him.

Upon reaching the end of the list, the last photo, Jean sighed and slumped herself over the arm of their chair. A dip formed between Karen’s eyebrows and she began scrolling through them all over again.

‘I don’t support this idea,’ said Jean.

‘Got any better ones?’ asked Karen, not bothering to take her eyes away from the photos.

Jean sighed again and leaned forward, putting herself level with Karen who’s nose had only a few inches to go until it touched the screen.

‘Describe him to me again, all of him. What was his complexion, haircut, accent, vernacular, physique, mannerisms et cetera.’

Karen retold the story of her most recent attack and as she spoke she watched it play out again in her head. Karen remembered sitting in her apartment afterwards, watching the news, eating reheated lasagne, and thinking that she would have felt far more traumatised before Hell’s Kitchen.

‘So he’s obviously a pro but he’s not a criminal,’ said Jean, ‘that leaves either police or military.’

‘Unless he’s just never been caught before.’

Jean shook her head. ‘Subtle isn’t his style, no, he must be new.’

They looked at each other, faint blue light reflecting from their eyes, close enough to see the pores in each other’s faces.

‘There’s no way we can look through every police and military profile,’ said Karen, chewing the back of her lip.

‘No, we don’t have that kind of time, but there’s a quicker way.’

Karen cocked her head.

‘We know when the first killing was, right. So here’s what we do, look through the profiles of local police and then look through military profiles but filter them so we only see people that have been off duty since the killings started.’

‘Fuck, Jean, that’s a good idea. Let’s start with the military, he didn’t strike me as the police type.’

‘Alright.’ Jean began tapping away at the keys and Karen went to make another coffee, it would be a while before Jean would manage to hack into the military personnel database.

‘Thanks,’ said Jean, as Karen took her mug away.

Karen watched Ben’s sister-in-law, her eyes fixed in concentration, her lips pressed into a tight curve.

‘Did you ever do anything like this for Ben? Help him out with stories when the leads went cold?’ Karen unscrewed the milk.

‘Nooo,’ said Jean, her voice faint and distant as if there were a veil between her and the rest of the world.

‘No? I would have thought the two of you could make a deadly team.’

Jean smiled inside her bubble.

‘Ben was never that kind of man. There were a few times I offered to help, overhearing him struggling with a story, that one source that just wouldn’t budge and such, but he’d never take it. He considered it a breach of ethics, almost like blackmail.’

Her words awakened a quiet but lingering sadness at the back of Karen’s throat, and also the louder, more sporadic guilt. ‘That sounds about right. Did you ever try and convince him?’

Jean shook her head. ‘Ben wanted to be better than the bad guys, and he was better than them but it didn’t save him. I thought about it a lot after he passed, talking with my sister until the small hours of the night. There is such a thing as being too good. If you stick to the rulebook someone’s only going to bash your head in with it and then what good are you?’

The frankness of her words gave Karen pause. They seemed to be sinking slowly through her scalp, only half having reached her brain, and not yet yielding their complete meaning to her. And then suddenly Wesley.

I don’t expect you to understand that.

His blood was on her hands, it had seeped into her skin, into her veins. His blood had poisoned her. Hot coffee spilled over the edge of the cup and splashed Karen’s hand, scalding her and breaking her out of the trance she had worked herself into.

‘Are you alright?’ said Jean, finally turning away from the screen.

‘Yeah, I’m fine, wasn’t paying attention,’ said Karen, sucking her scorched knuckles.

‘I’m in,’ said Jean, nodding towards the computer.

Karen rushed over with their drinks.

‘I thought there’d be less results this time,’ she said, brushing her hair away from her face.

Jean put her arm across Karen’s shoulders. ‘There’s millions of soldiers in America,’ she said, solemnly, ‘let’s start with New York and if we don’t’ find him there we’ll branch out to the adjacent states.’

Karen’s back was starting to ache from being hunched over the screen for so long. ‘Alright, sounds good.’ Instead of squeezing in next to Jean she pulled up an extra chair.

‘Let me see if I can filter out all the women and poc.’

‘Could you get rid of anyone that’s been there less than 3 years too? This guy was experienced.’

‘Yeah, I’ll look for people that joined more than three years ago but less than fifteen.’

The number fell to the double digits and the two relaxed into their chairs.

They found him in minutes.

‘That’s him,’ said Karen, leaning forward in her chair. The man looked different despite the picture being only a few years old. Perhaps it was the shadows Karen had encountered him among but he seemed far older than this photo, and his date of birth, suggested. His eyes locked with the camera, the American flag draped behind him, a firm expression of pride and loyalty upon him.

‘Frank Castle,’ muttered Karen. Jean was watching her. ‘Go to his profile, I’m not convinced it’s him, might be a relative.’

Jean tapped and clicked while Karen mulled the photo over some more. She recalled how cavalier the killer had been and yet it didn’t seem like he was taking any pleasure in it.

‘I’m gonna say we’ve found him,’ said Jean, ‘not much information on him though. In fact, to me, this looks like a dummy profile, it’s too bare.’

‘You mean it’s fake?’

‘Yeah, but more like a decoy. There must be something more interesting hidden around. Look it says he’s been enlisted for five years, but if that were the case he wouldn’t have such a high rank. Or, had, I should say; it says he’s a deserter.’

Karen leaned even closer, reading the words for herself.

‘Can we find out why?’

‘You could ask him yourself,’ said Jean, highlighting some text, ‘says he’s from Hell’s Kitchen.’

‘So we’re looking at someone who’s been in the military longer than their profile claims, from Hell’s Kitchen, without a criminal record… witness protection?’

‘Good call,’ said Jean, her fingers already working on the suggestion.

Karen put a steadying hand on Jean’s shoulder and caught her eyes. ‘I’m not sure we should go looking into witness protection.’

Jean looked past Karen and surveyed the office with faux bewilderment before settling her eyes on Karen’s. ‘You know, sometimes I think I can still hear Ben’s voice.’

Karen glared at her. ‘I don’t mind looking into this guy but we shouldn’t meddle with witness protection. What if we find someone we know?’

‘Fine, fine. How about this, I’ll only search for him specifically. That way, nothing unpleasant comes up and everyone in protection lives happily ever after… as far as you’re concerned.’

Karen continued to glare but eventually, she nodded. ‘Okay.’

They turned back to the computer. Karen let her eyes wander as Jean delved further into the data. Orange light had started to slip in between the blinds. The sun was warm and low on the horizon. Jean spoke without taking her eyes off the screen.

‘Perhaps going to the police isn’t the best idea with this guy.’

Jean leaned back and gestured towards the screen, the page was headed by The Castiglione Case in bold. It only took Karen a minute or so to read through the wall of text and when she finished her face had set into a hard frown.

‘Fisk,’ said Karen, her fingers tightening around her mug.

‘So they get spirited away by witness protection but when he’s off on tour Fisk uses his puppets in blue to find and kill his family. He finds out, deserts the marines but when he gets back Fisk’s already gone down so instead he’s taking it out on any criminal he can hunt down. I’ve gotta say, I don’t hate this guy.’

Karen breathed a laugh. ‘Me either,’ she said, reading the page again, encouraging herself to feel the events as he had.

‘What are you gonna do now?’ asked Jean, taking a sip from her coffee, steam dancing along her skin.

‘Well,’ said Karen, ‘I’d say the chances of him surrendering to the police without trying to slaughter them all first is next to none so exposing him isn’t going to help at all.’

‘I’m going to take a wild guess and say we’re both leaning on the same idea right now.’

Karen took a long look at her coffee, settling somewhere under the mahogany surface before finishing it off.

‘Daredevil,’ she paused and met Jean’s eyes, ‘but I don’t know how to get information to him. Usually he just turns up.’

Jean, very slowly, raised her eyebrows at Karen and looked pointedly at her laptop, Castle’s secret history filling up the screen. Karen probably would have understood her meaning quicker if she hadn’t been so repulsed by the idea.

‘Definitely not,’ she said, leaning away from Jean, ‘we shouldn’t even try.’

Jean paused before she spoke, waiting to see if Karen would change her mind.

‘Can we really wait for him to show up out of the black? This guy’s probably out there right now with a gun in some two-bit drug dealer’s mouth. What about Matt and Foggy, would they know?’

Karen shook her head and chewed on her lip.

‘Can you for residences under his name, Castle or Castiglione?’

‘Yeah, I could easily find out where he lives if I thought it was a good idea.’

‘Pleeeeeeeease,’ pleaded Karen, looking at Jean with doe-eyes.

Jean cracked within minutes and found his apartment in less time.

‘Now what? Are we gonna sneak over there?’

Karen grinned. ‘So I’ve earned the “we” now have I?’

Jean pursed her lips and said nothing.

‘Okay, I don’t think we should go over there,’ said Karen, ‘but we’ll make sure to tell Daredevil as soon as we get in contact with him. That way he’ll have a chance to gather evidence before making a move on this guy.’

Karen moved to stand up but Jean took her hand and held it.

‘Don’t do anything stupid to get Daredevil’s attention, Karen. I don’t want to end up walking past your chalk outline because you were trying to bait him out or something.’

Karen gave her a soft smile.

‘I have too much to stick around for to be that reckless,’ she said, entwining their fingers together. ‘I’ll ask the lawyer bros and we’ll come up with something together. Safety in numbers, right?’

Jean squeezed Karen’s hand.

*

Matt dragged himself across the threshold and fell, face first, onto his sofa. He let his keys drop to the floor and his glasses smush against his face. Riker’s had confirmed it – there was no turning away now.

His apartment still stank so Matt buried his face in pillows, trying to replace it with something more familiar. In the neighbouring room, under the floorboards, rats were eating through electrical wire. Matt only used the fridge, so it didn’t bother him. He stayed on the sofa, sulking, until his phone rang. Ringing phones; like screaming children. He realised it was his burner when it didn’t shout the caller’s name at him. He pulled it out of his pocket and sat upright on the couch.

‘Hello?’

‘Hey, Daredevil.’

The sound of her voice breathed life back into his body with a force Matt would not have expected of it.

‘Claire, are you alright?’

‘I’m alright. The teenage superhero wannabe eating Doritos on my couch has probably seen better days, I’d imagine.’

Matt paused, hoping that she’d elaborated.

‘What happened,’ he said.

Claire’s sigh seemed to travel through the receiver and transport her into the room with him.

‘I’d just got back from a night shift and found this kid on my balcony. Dressed in a costume, beaten half to death. Apparently I’m a beacon for the stubborn type because he won’t let me take him to a hospital or treat his wounds. Relative of yours?’

‘I doubt it,’ said Matt, pulling off his tie. ‘What’s going on now? Do you need help?’

Claire gave a short chuckle. ‘Oh yeah. How quickly can you be here?’

Matt stood up. ‘I’m on my way now.’

He put her on speaker and she gave him address whilst he gathered up his suit and equipment.

‘You can get changed into your costume in my room when you get here.’

‘Alright. Claire…’

‘What?’

‘I have to make a call but I’ll be there in twenty.’

‘Okay. You don’t have to rush around, just show up.’

‘I will. See you soon.’

‘See you soon,’ she said.

Matt cut the line and dialled for Sam, letting him know that he was about to leave him to watch over Hell’s Kitchen alone. Sam didn’t seem to mind as much as he was interested in where Matt was going and what her name was and whether he’d be back that night. Matt gave him noting and said goodbye. Once he was sure he had everything he needed and the apartment was secure, save for the punctured window, he left for Queens. His sticks rattled in his bag but too quiet for anyone else to hear.

His cab arrived within minutes of being requested. On the way, Falcon text him with an update on Karen.

Left office with friend, heading home, we think.

He decided to reply.

Let me know if I need to come back, not what she’s getting up to.

Sam text back with a thumbs up that the voice automation translated into bracket, Y, bracket. Matt didn’t understand and put his phone away.

It didn’t take long to get to Queens and soon they were pulling up outside Claire’s apartment block. Matt stepped out of the cab and thanked John Smith who enthusiastically thanked him in return and enthusiastically said goodbye. He paused for a moment outside her building and listened. On the fourth floor someone was snoring loudly, lying on top of the covers of their bed, fully dressed. In the elevator a young man was kissing his much older boyfriend and Matt could hear a metal belt buckle clinking.

On the fifth floor Claire was sitting next to a teenager, watching cartoons. Matt put a hand to his chest to steady a flutter under his ribs. The sun had all but set and the night was drawing in, bringing a chill with it, yet Matt’s skin was hot and tingly. He stopped listening, cleared his throat, adjusted his tie, and entered the building. He used the lift.

When Matt knocked on Claire’s door it was the first time in weeks that he had heard her voice in the flesh. Anyone with hearing as acute as his would have heard his heart skip a bit. Matt felt more than a little relieved that Stick wasn’t around.

‘Who’s that?’

His voice straddled the line between tenor and contralto as though he were Sisyphus, forever dragging his boulder to the mountain top only to see it tumble again into a pile of rubble. Matt could also hear the crunching of Doritos.

‘A friend. Hide behind the couch!’

Her voice was so smooth he could have slept in it.

The teenager hurled himself over the back of the sofa as Claire went to answer the door. Matt wiped the beginnings of a bead of sweat from his forehead and took a deep breath. Not often did he struggle to exert control over his own body.

The door opened, hitting him with a wave of smells, most of them belonging to junk food but all of them overpowered by Claire’s. Matt could feel her smiling at him.

‘Hey,’ he said.

‘Hey.’

She stepped aside to let him in. Matt could feel the kid’s heart racing behind the couch.

‘He’s scared,’ he said, nodding towards the sofa.

‘I’ll deal with it,’ said Claire, ‘the bathroom’s just through there.’ Claire pointed at a door, hesitantly.

‘Alright, I won’t be long.’

Matt touched Claire’s arm before disappearing into the bathroom and setting his bag on the lid of the toilet. He could hear her talking to the boy outside.

‘Right, I know you’re confused but you need to let me treat your wounds. I’ve been in this situation before. You can trust me. I’ve invited someone over that might be able to convince you.’

She got no reply.

Claire lowered herself onto the couch, leaning over it and peering down at the injured teen. ‘Do you know Daredevil?’

He dropped his Doritos.

Matt fastened his helmet and holstered his sticks, suited up in the bathroom, waiting with a frantic heart. It would be a long time before he thought of a way to explain this story to Foggy. Claire called him.

‘Are you ready?’

Matt opened the door. Claire looked him up and down and had to stop herself from reaching out and touching him. He looked taller in the suit.

‘The horns are a bit much,’ she whispered.

At her words, the injured teen appeared from behind the sofa, sticking his head over the top. Matt could feel his eyes on him and applied his warmest smile.

Claire stepped between the two and spoke to the boy.

‘Are you going to tell me your name now?’

Matt heard the boy struggling with words, as though multiple sentences were fighting amongst each other for liberation, stuck at the bottom of his tongue.

Claire accepted this. ‘Okay… Spider-Boy, meet my friend, Daredevil.’

Matt approached the couch, slowly, and stretched out a hand towards the boy, unsure of whether he would accept it.

The boy stopped crouching, barely holding back a groan as he leaned over the couch to shake Matt’s hand. Matt could taste blood in the air. The boy’s grip struck him with its firmness. His mask had been pulled up to his nose, presumably so he could stuff his mouth with food.

‘Nice to meet you,’ he said.

They dropped hands and the boy was still looking him over, speechlessly.

‘How do I know you’re actually Daredevil?’ he asked, the depth of his voice still wavering.

Matt laughed. ‘How many other people dress like this? Do you think Claire just called up her all her friends like “does anyone have a spare Daredevil costume that they can put on to cheer up this kid I found on my balcony”?’

‘I’m just saying, it’s possible,’ he said, holding up his hands.

Claire raised her eyebrows and rubbed her temple, failing to suppress a smile.

Matt liked him already.

‘Well, why don’t you ask me something only the real Daredevil would know,’ said Matt.

The boy shook his head. ‘No, that won’t work.’

‘Why not?’

‘Because I don’t know anything about Daredevil. How would I know if your answers were right in the first place?’

‘Just listen to my h- nevermind, okay. Have you got any ideas?’

A sly grin spread across the boy’s face.

‘Yeah, I do.’

Matt tilted his head. ‘What is it?’

The boy slid over the back of the sofa and made himself comfortable. ‘Do a flip.’

Matt laughed and turned his face towards Claire who shrugged her shoulders.

‘If that’s what it takes,’ she said, ‘just don’t mark my floor or break anything.’

‘Okay, alright,’ he chuckled. Matt checked that his sticks were holstered properly and moved into a more open space. Claire moved far out of his way.

‘Front flip or back flip?’ Matt asked.

The boy leaned forwards, ‘it’s gotta be a back flip.’

Matt shook his head. ‘Alright.’ Luckily, it had been a few hours since he ate. He planted his feet shoulder-width and stretched his arms out above his head. Pointing his arms behind him, he swung them forwards as his knees bent for the jump, getting as much height as he could. He jumped, tightening his abdominals and quadriceps, rotating at his hips, tucking his legs and spinning the world around him. His feet touched the ground again, landing squarely on Claire’s floor, without marking it, his arms stretched out ahead of him. Matt waited for the boy’s response.

‘Okay, it’s probably you.’

Matt scowled. ‘Probably? Alright then.’

Silence reigned for one too many seconds causing Claire to step in.

‘M- Daredevil can you tell him how many times I’ve sewn you back together.’

Matt nodded, turning his head between them. ‘It’s true. Claire’s helped me out more times than I even remember.’

‘See,’ she said, ‘now will you let me look at your wounds?’

The boy squirmed in his seat. ‘I’m fine. I’ll be fine.’

Claire’s eyebrows soared. ‘You’re bleeding through your costume. I know you’re not fine.’

The boy looked himself over, twisting his body around. ‘Oh yeah. I’m still new to this.’

‘Oh, don’t worry,’ said Claire, sardonically, ‘it doesn’t show.’

Matt couldn’t help but smile at her.

‘Are you at least going to tell me what happened?’ she said.

‘I got into a fight.’

‘Yeah, no shit,’ said Claire, crossing her arms.

Matt really couldn’t stop smiling.

The boy sighed and fidgeted in his seat some more. ‘You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.’

Matt could feel Claire’s blood pressure rising.

‘Let me show you something,’ he said, taking out his sticks. ‘Claire, can you pass me those candles.’

She handed them to him without question.

Matt spoke to the boy. ‘You watching?’

‘Mhm.’

Matt threw the first candle in the air, immediately following it with a stick, and another candle, catching the first and repeating, juggling the four improvised batons in the middle of the room.

‘I don’t get it,’ said the boy, scratching the back of his shoulder.

‘I know, not very impressive right,’ said Matt, catching the sticks and handing the candles back to Claire who returned them. ‘Now check this out.’

Matt holstered his sticks and unfastened his helmet. Claire’s eyes were heavy on him. The boy was leaning forwards. Matt pulled his helmet off, savouring the feel of air against his skin.

‘Claire, have you got one of those small flashlights?’

‘Yep,’ Claire walked over to her medical pack and tossed the miniature torch back to him. Matt held it out towards the boy. ‘Shine this in my eyes.’

The boy stood up and took the torch in his hand. He pointed it at Matt’s face and switched it on. After a few seconds of pointing it at him the boy stopped and let his hand fall. ‘Why am I doing this?’

Claire spoke up. ‘His pupils aren’t dilating in the bright light.

The boy aimed the light at Matt’s eyes again, looking closer. ‘You’re blind?’

‘Yeah, that’s right.’

The light dropped and went out. Suddenly, the boy threw the flashlight at Matt’s face, wincing in pain as moved his arms too much. Matt only just managed to catch it.

‘I don’t believe you,’ said the boy, cautiously.

Matt scoffed. ‘Is your story less believable than a blind guy juggling?’

‘Yeah.’

Matt wasn’t expecting that.

‘Okay, bring it on.’

The boy breathed a laugh and leaned far back into the couch. ‘I don’t even know where to begin.’

‘You don’t have to tell us everything,’ said Claire, ‘just how you got hurt.’

‘That’s not much easier,’ he said.

Claire pulled up a chair from the dining table and got one for Matt too, setting them opposite the couch.

The boy took a deep breath. ‘My biology teacher turned himself into a giant lizard person and when I confronted him about it he tried to eat me. Also I have super powers because I got bitten by a genetically-modified arachnid.’

‘A giant lizard person…’ said Matt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ben took Doris's last name when they married.  
> I've removed paragraph indents in this chapter because they don't fit the usual style of Ao3.  
> The next chapter will be posted on the 22nd of September.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Matt, Claire and Peter head out to take on The Lizard.

Claire rubbed her forehead. ‘Why is this happening to me?’

‘I told you it was harder to believe.’

Claire sighed, exhausted. ‘If your wounds are from a giant lizard person you should really let me examine them. The longer they go untreated the more chance they’ll get infected.’               

‘I really am fine,’ repeated the boy.

‘You’re not fine,’ said Matt, ‘I can hear one of your ligaments tearing slightly every time you breath too much, I can hear how many broken ribs you have and the two fractures in your shoulder and I can smell how much blood you’ve lost, and how much you’re going to lose if you don’t let Claire stitch you up.’

The boy scowled and looked away from them. His heartbeat was picking up for reasons Matt couldn’t figure out.

‘Okay, but only if you do it.’

Matt made a strained whining sound with the bottom of his throat and Claire gave them both weird looks.

‘Is this a guy thing? Is it because I have cooties?’

The boy pursed his lips and looked around the room, hesitantly.

‘No,’ he had to force the word out.

Claire gave Matt an exasperated look.

‘I’ll do it,’ he said, ‘but I guarantee she’d do a far cleaner and much less painful job of it.’

‘I can take it.’

Claire handed the first aid box to Matt and sat back down in her chair, crossing her legs.

The boy mumbled something that only Matt heard.

‘Huh?’ said Claire.

Matt turned to her. ‘He wants you to leave the room.’

A shadow passed over Claire’s face and her lips moved wordlessly. She uncrossed her legs and returned her chair to the dining table. ‘Well, call me if you need anything.’ She was speaking to Matt and didn’t look at the injured boy as she banished herself to the bedroom.

‘Are you gonna tell me what that was about?’ Matt said, after Claire had shut the door.

He felt the boy shake his head.

‘Alright then. Let’s get to work. Lie down.’ Matt moved over to the couch and stood over the wounded boy, needle and thread in hand. He tasted the air and put a hand on the boy’s torso. He seemed to flinch away from something other than pain.

‘You’re gonna have to take this off so I can get to your wounds,’ said Matt, pinging the elastic in the boy’s costume.

He had gone rigid and there was sweat down his back and neck, Matt could hear his heart thumping. The boy said nothing, his mouth stuck in a stiff line. The two vigilantes looked like something from a still-life drawing, Matt waiting for a reply, the boy staring at the corner of the room, shutting the world out. When he finally spoke, his expression remained blank.

‘Can I have a towel?’ he whispered, his voice cracking.

‘Yeah, of course,’ said Matt, quickly retrieving some from the bathroom. ‘Here.’

‘Thanks,’ he said, suppressing a whimper. He sat up, and sorted through the towels, picking out the biggest ones. ‘I suppose there’s no point in asking you to turn around.’

Matt wasn’t going to lie. ‘No,’ he said, solemnly.

The boy stood up and wrapped a towel around his shoulders, putting his back to Matt and sliding out of his costume. ‘How exactly do you see?’ he asked from behind the towel.

‘Technically, I don’t.’ said Matt. ‘I use my other senses to understand my environment. So, for example, vibrations can tell me where something is, how much it weighs, what it’s made of, I can smell what it’s chemical composition is, how dry it is, and I can hear much better than most people. I can hear your heartbeat right now, I can hear Claire reading a book.’

‘So I suppose you see in silhouettes.’

Matt knew where this was going.

'Yeah.’

The boy wrapped a towel around his waist and draped a small one over his shoulders. He lay back down on the couch so that only the wounds on his stomach were exposed. Matt leaned down and began dabbed at the wound with disinfectant. The boy didn’t wince at all.

‘You see more than most people then,’ he said. He was watching Matt’s hands and seemed less determined to avoid looking at his face now.

‘Yeah.’

Matt put the needle through the wound. It still reminded him of his father.

‘If you can hear people’s heartbeats, can you tell when they’re lying?’

‘Yeah.’

The boy laughed shallowly. ‘So there’s no point in trying to keep secrets from you.’

Matt knew he didn’t have to say anything here so he just nodded.

The boy took Matt’s hand and stopped his stitching. ‘Please don’t tell anyone else,’ he said. There was a slight tremble in his voice and hands that felt like an earthquake to Matt.

‘I won’t.’

Matt could smell salt around the boy’s eyes and his hand was returned to him.

‘Thanks.’

He finished stitching the wounds on his stomach and the boy turned over, giving up the towel.

They were fading quickly but Matt could still feel the grooves in the boy’s skin left by his binder. He stitched up the cut on his shoulderblade.

‘I believe you about the giant lizard,’ said Matt, packing the kit away. The boy was pulling his costume back on. The towels ended up in a heap on the floor. Matt picked them up, folded them and set them on the back of the couch. He decided to give him a moment of privacy and went to get Claire.

Matt knocked and waited for Claire to answer before entering.

She was sitting on her bed against the headboard with a book.

‘We’re done,’ said Matt, coming over to stand by her.

‘Did he give you any trouble?’

‘No, it was alright, he was just shy.’

‘Makes sense,’ said Claire, setting her book down. ‘Now what?’

‘He’s gonna tell us what happened.’

Claire scowled. ‘And then what?’ Her tone had gained a sudden hardness.

‘We’ll see after he tells us.’

‘If I have to deal with anymore half-dead heroes I’m leaving the country. They don’t have to deal with this in Europe.’

They went back to the lounge where the boy had finished dressing and picked up his Doritos again. Matt pulled up a seat for Claire next to his own and they prepared to interview the boy again.

‘Ok,’ said Matt, ‘who wants to start?’

Claire did. ‘How about we start with names.’

‘You mean like an AA meeting?’ said the boy.

‘Like most meetings,’ said Claire, leering at him.

‘You’re Matt Murdock and you’re Claire Temple. I saw an envelope addressed to you in the bin and I recognise him from TV.’

Claire’s posture gave off the impression that she was about to maul the teen in front of Matt.

‘Ok well that saves time,’ Matt said, trying to mediate, ‘now you go.’

The boy answered without missing a beat. ‘Peter Parker.’

‘Okay, Peter, why don’t you tell us what happened, from the very beginning.’

‘Okay… From West Philadelphia born and raised on the playground is where I spent most of my days. Ch-‘

Peter stopped as soon as he saw Claire’s expression.

‘I got bit by a genetically modified spider on a school trip which gave me superpowers like a spider and then my teacher stopped turning up at school and no one could find him so I went to check out his house. He wasn’t there but I found some research notes that helped me figure out where to look. He was trying to invent a way for humans to grow their limbs back the same way some lizards do but to do that he needed human volunteers but obviously the list of people looking to inject themselves with fifty-percent lizard DNA, fifty-percent guesswork is pretty short. I found him in the sewers with his experiments. He’d almost cracked it… I couldn’t save any of them. He was gonna kill me.’

 

*

 

‘Just call the police.’

Matt had his hand on the door.

‘Claire –‘

‘Explain to me why that’s not an option.’

‘Because there’s no way we could prepare them for what’s down there.’

Claire’s eyes searched him, routing around for the unspoken.

‘Give us a moment, please, Peter.’

He nodded and went out to the balcony. It was one of September’s colder nights, a taste of the coming winter. He shut the door behind him.

‘I don’t believe you’re worried about the police, Matt.’

‘You’re right, I’m not.’

He let his hand fall.

‘I called you over here to talk some sense into the boy, not to make him your sidekick.’

‘This is what he wants.’

They stood opposite each other in the hallway; Matt, rigid as an action figure, Claire, arms crossed and leaning back against the wall.

‘He’s a teenager,’ she said, ‘they want all kinds of dumb crap. You’re supposed to be the responsible adult.’

‘This is me being responsible. We can’t stop him from going back there.’

Claire scoffed. ‘That is such a cop-out.’

‘You think I want to do this, don’t you. You think I have some kind of complex.’

Claire sighed and looked at the ground.

‘Yes, Matt, I think that’s part of it.’

‘You’re right. I’m not gonna lie, you’re right. I do this for me.’

Claire nodded, her eyes fixed on the ground.

‘I know,’ she said.

‘Do you?’ Matt asked. ‘What would you do if you heard the guy next door beating his wife?’

‘I’d call the police.’

‘And what if he’s a cop, or what if she doesn’t want to press charges? A lot of abuse victims don’t want to. Then what do you do when the police can’t help? This is what my life is like, this is what I deal with every day. People dying down the street from me. I couldn’t survive if I didn’t do anything. I couldn’t live with myself if I just let these things happen and trusted the police to handle it instead.’

‘I see where you’re going but this isn’t anything like that. This is a hostage situation.  Something the police could deal with.’

‘If I tell them there’s a hostage situation in the sewers, they’ll send two guys to check it out and if they even find him they’ll probably get killed. If I tell them to watch out for the giant lizard man then they’ll probably send no one. If we go there first we can deal with him and then call the cops.’

‘You’re not making sense. Are you doing this for you or are you doing this for them?’

Matt’s lips were a hard line.

‘I’m doing this because I can and because I can I have to. If I let someone else do it, and they die, then they died because of me.’

‘This is such an extreme way of looking at things, Matt.’

Matt leaned back and ran interlocked hands over his head and through his hair, settling on the back of his neck.

‘I know you’re right. I know you are. It is. But I don’t know anything else.’

‘Me either,’ said Peter.

Claire’s eyes snapped around at him. He had poked his head around the balcony door. ‘You really can’t give us five minutes of privacy?’

‘I’m mostly sorry,’ he said, ‘but I know what Matt’s trying to say and that’s exactly how I feel. If there’s something I can do, then I have to do it, otherwise I couldn’t live with myself. I tried doing nothing before and it was the worst mistake of my life.’

Claire pinched the bridge of her nose and groaned. ‘You both need therapy. Extensive, professional therapy, I swear.’

Peter sidled into the room.

 ‘Wow, you mention lizard people one time and everyone starts to call you crazy.’

Claire was glaring at him again and Peter mimed zipping his mouth shut. She turned back towards Matt.

‘You’re prepared to die for them?’ she asked.

Matt answered immediately. ‘If that’s what it takes.’

Claire looked away from them both and wiped an eye, roughly.

‘I’m coming with you.’

‘Okay.’

Claire looked surprised. ‘That was easier than I expected.’

‘I couldn’t really say no after going on about how important action is.’

‘No, you couldn’t,’ said Claire.

Matt set his helmet down and came over to her, brushing her hair behind her ears. ‘You’re gonna need some kind of disguise.’

 

*

 

Matt noticed it was slightly harder to move in his suit in the cold, another thing he’d have to speak to Melvin about. Peter’s costume was skin-tight and looked too thin to provide any sort of protection but there was something about it that gave Matt doubt. The material Peter had used was something Matt had never sensed before. Although it was like what he expected nanotubes to feel like.

Claire was dressed entirely in black and had stuffed a backpack full of medical supplies.. Whilst she got ready, Matt wrapped a surgical mask in black duct tape. In ten minutes, the three of them were collected by the door.

‘You look awesome, Claire,’ said Peter.

‘I would probably agree,’ said Matt.

‘You can’t tell,’ said Claire, her voice slightly muffled, ‘but I’m smiling right now.’

They laughed.

‘Got everything you need?’ asked Matt, gesturing at Claire’s bag.

‘No, but it’ll have to do.’

‘Alright then, when the floor’s quiet we’ll sneak out onto the roof and Peter can let us down the back of the building. Peter, are you ready?’

Peter shook his head and dashed back behind the sofa. They heard the crunching of Doritos.

‘Eurgh, now my mouth’s all dry,’ he said, walking over to the kitchen sink and sticking his head under the tap. Matt noted how light his footsteps were. Peter wiped his lips and pulled his mask back down.

‘Alright, I’m ready. Anyone got any lizard puns?’

‘Please, no,’ said Claire.

‘Then it’s gonna be a loooong walk.’

‘Alright,’ Matt bowed his head and focused on their building. ‘I won’t be able to signal you quickly enough to keep up with where everyone in the building is so just try to follow me as closely as you can.’

The two of them nodded.

Matt put his hand on the door again. They were on the balls of their feet. Peter was flexing his hands. Claire pulled her backpack tighter.

‘Alright, now.’

Matt opened the door and Claire followed him out with Peter watching her back. Together, they glided down the hallway towards the stairs. Matt stopped after the first flight.

‘Someone up there’s heading to the roof; a smoker.’

The three of them were cramped onto the landing between staircases.

‘We can’t wait here,’ Claire whispered.

‘Just go,’ said Peter.

They turned to him.

‘Just go for it, it doesn’t matter if they see us. What are they gonna do?’

Matt considered it.

‘I’d rather not take that risk,’ he said, ‘but we don’t have a choice. We’ll have to be quick. Come on.’

They rushed up the stairs as silently as they could. When they reached the top Matt stopped again.

‘This door’s gonna creak so we’ve got about five seconds to get from here to the edge of the building. Are you ready, Claire?’

‘Yeah.’ Only her eyes were visible between her mask and her hood. They flitted between the two vigilantes before settling on Peter. ‘I swear if you drop me I’m calling your aunt.’

‘I won’t,’ said Peter.

‘Alright,’ she said, holding her backpack closely, ‘let’s go.’

Matt nodded and placed his palm on the centre of the fire door. Pushing hard, it swung open and the three ran out into the night, heading for the roof’s edge. The smoker whirled around and gawped at them, cigarette falling to the floor, hands scrambling for their phone. Matt jumped first, aiming for the fire escape ladder. He landed without any grace and immediately began leaping from platform to platform. Peter and Claire held on to each other and made their jump. Matt paused and focused on them. He heard the cable shoot out from Peter’s wrist and attach to another rooftop. He could hear Claire’s heart pounding relentlessly. They landed on the same fire escape as Matt. Claire hesitated and steadied herself, a hand on Peter’s shoulder; she was almost half a foot taller than him. Matt could feel her legs shaking, their vibrations carrying all the way up to him, through the metal framework.

‘Are you alright?’ asked Peter. Matt heard his voice tremble slightly.

Claire took a deep breath and stopped leaning on the boy. ‘Yeah. Come on.’

They ascended the fire escape and Matt waited for them to catch up. They got there slower than Matt would have by himself but not by much. Claire was completely out of breath and Matt could smell the adrenaline on her. When they finally stopped she went back to leaning on Peter. He hadn’t broken a sweat and didn’t seem to mind.

‘This is the place,’ said Peter, leading them over to a manhole. ‘Down here, take a few turns and you should be able to smell your way there.’

Peter pulled up the cover with one hand and dropped it beside the hole. The three of them stood surrounding it. Matt grimaced.

‘I can smell it from here,’ he said, turning away from the open sewer.

‘No point in putting it off then,’ said Peter and he began to climb down the ladder, jumping to the bottom after only a few rungs.

‘You go next,’ said Matt.

‘Alright,’ said Claire. She took off her backpack and lowered it into the hole. ‘Catch, Peter!’

Matt heard him catch the bag with ease and shook his head when Peter mimicked the sound of glass smashing.

‘Eurgh,’ said Claire, lowering herself into the sewer, ‘it’s so humid.’

Matt waited for her to reach the bottom before following. He reached up and pulled the grate over, leaving it open slightly in case Claire needed to make a quick escape. He reached the bottom with Claire and Peter waiting for him.

It reeked.

The smell was so strong it almost made him dizzy. Matt had been in the sewers before, most recently with Nikolai, and it didn’t compare to this. Something about the stench tasted unnatural.

‘You don’t happen to have a spare one of those, do you?’ Matt asked, gesturing at Claire’s surgical mask.

She shook her head. ‘Sorry, I didn’t think.’

‘Nevermind. Peter, how big exactly is this lizard?’

Peter tilted his head far back and made a humming noise. ‘About seven or eight feet tall. Imagine a well-built man but with the limbs of a Spielberg raptor.’

‘How fast?’

‘Erm, pretty fast but I reckon we can take him.’

‘Right, here’s what I think we should do. I’ll go in and distract him and you get anyone still alive out of there. Get them to Claire and then come back to me. We should aim to catch this guy.’

‘Catch the giant reptile?’ said Peter.

‘Yes, if we can lock him down somehow, with your rope, maybe.’

‘It’s web.’

‘Is this really the time?’ said Matt.

‘Sorry, web just sounds cooler.’

Claire shook her head.

‘If we can lock him down, then we can let the police and paramedics clean up. What do you two think?’

Claire spoke first.

‘How long should I wait here? Like, let’s say, I’m here waiting for twenty minutes and Peter still hasn’t turned up. Then what do I do?’

‘If I, when we get there, I think it’ll take longer than twenty minutes, I’ll come back straight away and tell you.’

‘And if something goes wrong,’ said Claire, ‘then what?’

Matt flipped a stick around in his fingers as he thought it over.

‘If half an hour passes and you haven’t heard anything at all from us, call this number.’ Matt dug out his phone and brought up Falcon’s contact details. ‘I’ll leave this with you.’

‘Alright.’

Their hands lingered as Matt passed it to her.

‘Don’t make me wait half an hour,’ she said. Claire tucked the phone into her back pocket and hugged him. Matt hadn’t hugged anyone in his costume before. She let him go and turned to Peter.

‘If you come back in one piece I’ll tell you where I hid the Pringles.’

‘If they’re not Texas barbecue don’t talk to me.’

‘I’ve got two tubes.’

‘Right, let’s go,’ said Peter, overenthusiastically. He dragged Matt away by the arm with a surprising amount of strength for someone with such a slender figure. ‘Back soon!’ he called back to Claire.

‘Shhh!’ said Matt, ‘and give me my arm back.’

‘Oops, sorry.’

They turned the first corner and left Claire leaning against the ladder, her backpack by her feet.

‘Can you see alright?’ Matt asked.

Peter was walking confidently by his side and seemed to be having no trouble despite the slippery floor.

‘Yeah, it’s another weird thing, I can see in the dark, but only in strange colours. We’re nearly there.’

Matt blocked out the sound of running water and listened. He could hear something around the next corner.

‘Hold on,’ said Matt, putting a hand on Peter’s shoulder. He took out a baton and tapped it gently on the wall.

Matt saw everything. Iron cages lining the walls, each of them holding two or three people, all of them slumped on the floor like ragdolls. Their hearts were faint and their breaths were ragged. Something else felt off about them and they smelled like bleach. He could hear crying.

‘Let’s try trapping him in one of the cages,’ said Matt. ‘Although the lock feels a bit flimsy.’

‘I can reinforce the door with some web,’ said Peter.

‘Right, let’s do that. You ready?’ Matt took out his other baton

‘Yeah.’

Matt nodded and broke into a sprint with Peter keeping pace effortlessly beside him. With every footstep, vibrations reverberated through the stone and Matt got a better look at their opponent. Peter had not exaggerated. It easily cleared eight feet and moved more like a raptor than a man, darting around the room on two legs, using its tail to counterbalance. When they turned the corner it whirled around and screamed at them. Its screech was like an organic interpretation of a train skidding to a halt and it made Matt slip across the floor and cover his ears. It looked at him, grunting, hunched over, and went straight for Peter.

Matt dived out of the beast’s way and felt the whip of its tail on the back of his head. Peter had leapt onto the ceiling, crawling past the lizard, towards the prisoners. It was watching him. Matt shook the noise out of his head and assessed the situation.

Peter was stuck on the ceiling above the prisoners with the lizard waiting underneath him, watching patiently. Matt combined his batons and approached the beast. Its limbs were as thick as sycamore trunks and yet it moved around with a primal grace. It didn’t pay him any attention as he approached.

Matt span around to gain momentum and struck the beast between the shoulder blades with his staff. It whirled around and roared at him, swiping with its claws and baring its teeth at him. Its face was grotesque; almost human but with a slightly elongated snout, and a lipless mouth that stretch from ear to ear opening five times as wide as any human mouth could and revealing a long, wet tongue. Its teeth were sharp but small, it was the claws that Matt would have to watch out for, including the deadly talons on its feet.

It started towards Matt but immediately stopped again as soon as Peter made a move towards the prisoners. It screeched at Peter and Matt had to cover his ears again. As soon as it finished, Matt struck it in the mouth with his staff. It turned and leapt at him. Matt raised his staff up in defence but its legs were too strong and the weight of it slammed him to the ground. Matt felt a talon rake against his stomach, scratching a long gash into the black pad on his armor. Matt gripped the stem of its tail with his legs and twisted, forcing it onto its back. Talons slashed through the air wildly as Matt pushed the point of his staff down on the beast’s chest. The shuddering of its hybrid heart rippled along the metal staff and into Matt’s own bones. It screamed again and this time Matt was unprepared. He dropped his staff and clapped his hands over his ears. The motion made little difference so close to the creature. The noise shredded Matt’s brain and scrambled his senses. He felt three copies of the beast rise from the floor and begin circling him. He expected it to attack from behind, to clamp its jaws around the back of his neck and sink its talons into his shoulders. Matt snatched up his staff and tried to concentrate on the creature. He could feel it… darting away from him.

Matt examined the room. Peter had gone and the cages were empty. The beast was in pursuit. Matt sprinted after them, running through puddles and splashing water up at himself. He wasn’t going to catch up to it. Matt pushed harder. His feet pounded against the wet stone, his heart slammed against his ribs, the hand that clenched his staff had turned white. He pushed harder. He could hear the hostages whimpering. Matt turned the corner and skidded to a stop, sliding a meter ahead. Peter was fighting the creature face to face, weaving between its claws with seamless fluidity. Matt could hear his stitches stretching under the pressure.

The beast lunged with a claw and Peter ducked under its arm, spinning behind it. He kicked it once, roundhouse, in the chest and landed a punch squarely on one of its eyes. The creature roared and slashed at him again, its tail whipping about uncontrollably. Peter ducked it once more and slid behind the creature, grabbing its tail, yanking it off its feet. The beast slammed, face-first, into the ground, its talons scratching lines into the concrete. Peter planted a foot on its back and wrestled with its tail until the beast rolled over and a talon ripped Peter’s costume open in a flash of red. The beast had gouged several inches across out of his forearm. Peter yelped and jumped backwards, cradling the wound.

‘Claire, go!’ shouted Peter, firing web into the creature’s eyes.

Claire hurried the first hostage up the sewer ladder and immediately the beast turned on them, seemingly undeterred by its lack of vision. Peter grabbed its tail again, crimson spitting everywhere, but the beast whipped its body around, using the momentum to slam the boy against a wall and then down against the floor. It was sinking a talon into Peter’s calf muscle when Matt launched a baton into its mouth.

The creature staggered back, dazed and retching as Matt ran towards it. He dodged the first swipe, rolling along the creatures arm and striking the back of its head with his baton. It shrieked at him, displaying its teeth and lunged for his right arm. Matt slipped the attack and rammed an elbow into the underside of the creature’s jaw, a spatter of blood sprayed the floor. Before the creature could react, Matt struck it in the chest with open palms and grabbed its arm as it reeled. He threw it over his shoulder, away from Claire and the hostages, and whacked his baton across its jaw again. Jagged shards of the creatures teeth scattered across the floor and it bellowed in pain. Suddenly, Matt felt something coil around his leg, from his ankle up past his knee, and then he felt the crack.

The creature squeezed and three of the bones in Matt’s leg snapped. He went to his hands and knees immediately, dropping his baton. The creature’s feet hooked onto his shoulders and its talons sank, all the way to the hilt, into his shoulders. Matt felt his own flesh and bone giving way to the beast’s claws yet there was no pain, only adrenaline, pumping out of his heart.

The creature, still on its back, lifted Matt from the floor, bringing his neck within reach of its jaws. Matt pushed down on the creature’s throat, trying to resist, forcing the pain in his shoulders to surface. He felt the collapse approaching, his will coming to an end, the creature’s claws ripping through his body. Peter caught the beast by the tail, dragging it out from under Matt. He scaled the closest wall, using his web to pull the beast along behind him, until he reached the ceiling. Matt rolled onto his back.

‘Claire,’ he cried. But his voice was barely audible beneath the action and Claire had already shepherded the hostages up the ladder. He was rolling around in his own blood. His mind flickered between past and present, memories bubbling up to the surface and spilling over, filling his skull. His senses buzzed, overwhelmed, as though he were surrounded by static. Beyond it all, he could hear grunting. Peter was pulling him up the ladder.

Matt called for Claire again the moment they reached the top and within moments he felt her hands on him.

‘I thought we weren’t supposed to use names,’ she said, her body trembling along with her voice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not going to have internet access for a while so the next chapter will be delayed a bit. I'll make an effort to update as soon as possible.


	7. Chapter 7

Foggy rolled around in his bed, rearranging his pillows again and again, throwing off his duvet in frustration and then crawling back under it moments later. He couldn’t sleep, he couldn’t get comfortable. It was cold, too quiet and his stomach kept growling. He groaned and forced himself out of bed, throwing on a navy-blue dressing gown and matching slippers. The night had reached the small hours and soon he would have to meet Karen and Matt at the office. After the three of them had taken a “hangover day”, they would fall behind if Foggy couldn’t get enough sleep to act like a fully-functioning human person. He slouched his way to the kitchen and reheated some lasagne.

He stood by the oven and turned every hob on the stove up to max, holding his hands over the rising heat and moaning delightedly. Foggy returned to the bedroom and pulled the blanket off the bed, lugging it into the lounge and throwing it over the sofa. He brought the pillows in too and switched on the TV while he organised his sofa-nest. He turned on the central heating and made himself comfortable, picking up his Xbox controller.

‘Xbox on,’ said Foggy.

The screen didn’t change from its fluorescent blue.

‘Mrrrmmm. Xbox on.’

Still nothing.

Foggy whined loudly and ejected himself from his nest, crawling across the floor to check every cable was where it should be.

‘Bah!’ said Foggy, plugging the power cable back in.

He tried again and the machine finally obeyed, flickering to life and dousing the room in a faint blue-ish hue. Retreating to his nest, Foggy blew on his lasagne and waited for the console to finish loading up. Playing games with Matt was one of the things Foggy found himself lamenting a lot. He could describe a movie to his friend, but he’d never be able to team up with him against demons or zombies. It made him a little bit angry to count all the things Matt couldn’t do. Foggy also had a bad habit of only playing through one game at a time, unable to skip between two or three titles. If he didn’t finish a game completely before moving onto the next then he couldn’t get his head into it, couldn’t move on, and he’d get halfway through it without paying any attention, still thinking about the six or seven other chaos emeralds he still needed to collect.

This was the compulsion that stood in the way of common sense when he looked up from his lasagne and remembered that he was still stuck on _Die in Fear, Live in Hell._ A game he had only started because Karen dared him to. Foggy lingered on the start-up icon for a long time, a decomposing skull with orange light emanating from inside the jaw. If one walked right up to the screen and looked closer, one could see that the orange light came from a small campfire. Beside the fire lay a body, smeared in crimson, and, hunched over it, a man with four extra arms protruding from his back. The extra limbs curved around his regular arms, turning his body into a walking talon. The camera circled around the back of the creature, obscuring view of the mutilated body and drawing attention to the creature’s additional appendages. Each arm worked swiftly and deftly, digging through the corpse, ripping through clothes, flesh, cartilage and bone. The creature tore out and tossed away the lungs and scooped up the heart. By this time, the camera had circled far enough around that the eviscerated corpse was in full view and the focus was on the fresh heart, cradled in the creature’s six hands. Karen had been the first one to spot this hidden animation. She had come away with a hand covering her mouth and another on her stomach. Foggy took a look afterwards and felt the same. Neither of them managed to describe this to Matt, or what happened next. The creature brought the heart close to its face and the camera followed. The creature’s mouth had been sewn up. Stitched to the point where it could only open it half an inch before its skin began to stretch. The creature was shaking with the strain of it but its eyes showed no change, their wide and wild hunger remained constant, unblinking. The creature’s arms moved like lightning as it slammed the heart against into its own mouth. The organ ruptured with the force, spraying blood over its face and neck. It pushed the splattered remnants into its mouth with every finger that reached, swallowing it noisily, convulsing when it finished. The creature quaked in ecstasy for a few moments, its arms twitching spasmodically, and then the animation restarted.

Foggy replayed this in his head as his thumb hovered over the start button.

‘Alright. Let’s go.’ He pressed play.

The protagonist was a chiselled white guy with stubble dressed in browns and greys that blended with the game environment, aside from the odd splashes of dirty-red that he could only assume was supposed to be blood. Nothing out of the ordinary so far, he thought.

His character walked slowly through an abandoned building, all metal and blood stains. His mission was to look for a child thought to have been left there deliberately by its parents. Foggy had heard a lot of strange noises while playing through the game but none of them sounded like a child’s voice. He went up a narrow, steel staircase and turned a corner, another hallway smeared with blood.

‘Why is this place even so… murder-y?’ said Foggy, mumbling under his breath as his character slowly, very slowly, pushed a door open. He stepped through and took the scene in. A long bridge stretched from one side of the room to the other, elevated several metres off the ground, and in the exact middle of the bridge, a bloated corpse. Behind it, at the far end of the platform, Foggy could see the entrance to an elevator and a key lying on the floor.

He let out a long groan.

Foggy unsheathed his pistols and fired at the naked body. The echoes seemed to stretch into wails but the body remained lifeless. It quivered slightly from the force of the bullets but returned to stone again immediately. He groaned again and edged his character forward. The corpse was face down on the bridge, its back bent in an acute angle achievable only by snapping the spine in the middle. He put another bullet in the corpse, just to make sure, and took a big step over it.

When nothing happened, Foggy pushed his character into a run and scooped up the key at the end of the platform.

From behind him, the corpse screamed.

If Foggy had had the volume any higher it would have made him scream too.

He turned his character around. The corpse convulsed like it had been struck by lightning and a fountain of blood erupted from a cavity in its chest.

‘Whaaaaaat is happeniiiiiing?’

He activated the elevator but something was beginning to climb out of the creature’s chest now and Foggy couldn’t wait. He unsheathed his guns and emptied them into the emerging creature but nothing happened. The elevator was still a dozen floors away. Foggy tried throwing himself off the bridge but wasn’t allowed. There was nothing to do but watch the demon-birth and wait for it to slaughter him. Arm after arm reached out of the corpse’s chest in a way that completely defied physics and Foggy soon realised that it was the creature from the initial loading screen that was appearing before him. He reloaded his pistols and forced his character to run, fruitlessly, into the elevator doors, praying for them to open. The scorpion creature was shambling towards him now, sleepily, but with hunger clear in its milky eyes.

The elevator pinged open. Foggy ran inside. Into the arms of another creature.

Foggy was rooted to the spot and it moved before he could blink. The creature fastened four hands around his characters arms, two on the lower, two on the upper and its remained hands around his neck, choking him and its eyes burst open with frenzied hunger. It picked him up, the camera paused the scene for a split-second, allowing Foggy to live the moment, and smashed its face into his character’s skull, splitting it and feeding on his brain. Foggy, and his character, screamed their lungs out.

He definitely woke up the neighbours.

The game kept going for a bit, running until the creature finished its meal and threw the character’s hollow and lifeless body over the bridge. The screen faded out to white. Continue? Foggy steadied his heart and took a deep breath.

‘Hell no,’ he said, switching the console off. ‘Hell-fucking-no.’

He screamed again as the door to his apartment slammed open and a figure rushed inside. Foggy pulled his blanket up around him and lobbed the Xbox controller at the doorway. The figure raised its arms, defensively, as the controller smashed against the wall beside them. It took a moment for Foggy’s eyes to adjust.

‘Oooooh, fuck,’ said Foggy

‘Oh, fuck,’ said Sam.

They stared at one another, echoing each other’s bewilderment.

‘Why did you scream like that?!’

Foggy’s mouth moved soundlessly so he gestured towards the television. ‘I, uhhhhhhhhhh, I don’t think I can explain. I’d have to show you.’

Sam pouted and stepped into the lounge, closing the door behind him with difficulty as it hung delicately on its hinges.

‘I guess Matt told you about us?’

‘Yeah. Sorry, I really should have been more careful with my late-night screaming.’

Sam brushed it off with a chuckle.

‘Oh well, sorry about your door.’

‘Ah, that old thing? I was thinking about kicking it down myself, don’t worry about it. Can I get you something to drink? Tea? Coffee? Vodka-tonic?’

‘Haha, despite what Tony Stark might have you believe, we’re not actually supposed to drink on the job. Coffee’s fine, thanks.’ The Falcon made himself at home, pulling out a chair at the dining table.

Foggy laughed and jumped up from the sofa, throwing off his blanket and forgetting that he was dressed only in a bath robe. It flapped about with the action and Foggy’s face went pink.

‘I’m going to go change first. Just one minute,’ he said, zipping into the bedroom.

Falcon looked around the room, curiously, and settled on the TV screen. The game had reset itself back to the loading screen, the skull’s glowing mouth gave the room an orange tinge.

When Foggy came back, fully-dressed, Sam was crouching right in front of the screen, squinting to make out the figures by the campfire. He watched the animation run through a loop and turned around with a blank face. He returned to the dining table in time for Foggy to bring his drink over.

‘I think I have a pretty good idea about the screaming now,’ he said, stirring his coffee.

‘Oh boy, just you wait and see.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, everyone, I know it's been nearly a month without any new content. I can assure you that I haven't abandoned this project, work is still ongoing, and it absolutely will be concluded.


	8. Chapter 8

‘I have a feeling your secret’s safe with them,’ said Matt.

Claire looked over at the prisoners. Peter was among them, calming them down. Their clothes were ragged and filthy. Puncture wounds lined their bodies where they had been pierced again and again with needles. Most of them had lost their hair with only a few small, shiny clumps, remaining, slick with grease and stuck to their scalps. Matt could feel them shivering from the cold and from fear. Their sweat hung, collectively, around them like a thin mist.

Claire went back to examining Matt. Before he could warn her, she found the break. And the blood. ‘Fuck, Matt!’

‘I’m alright, I just need a splint and bandage.’

‘You are not alright. _This_ is not alright.’ 

Matt touched his twisted leg and a lash of pain seared through his nervous system. He growled and lay on his back. ‘Yeah, it hurts.’ He groaned again and reached for Claire’s hand, holding it firmly in his own. ‘Does it at least look cool?’

Claire gave him a bewildered look. ‘No, Matt. It doesn’t. It looks like you got run over.’ She sighed. ‘I didn’t pack a splint.’

Matt was panting from the pain and squeezing Claire’s hand too tightly. ‘Forget about this for a second,’ he had to pause here, screwing up his eyes and grimacing, ‘first we need to get these people to a hospital.’ Matt propped himself up. ‘Errrr… Spider-Boy!’

Peter’s head whipped around.

‘Call an ambulance. In fact,’ Matt paused to count the hostages, ‘call ten. And then come over here.’

Claire tossed him her phone and he nodded, catching it easily.

‘What about you,’ she asked Matt. She circled behind him and began disinfecting the wounds on his shoulders. She shook her head while she worked.

Matt hardly felt the sting of her touches, the pain of his splintered bones overrunning everything else. ‘Where are my batons?’ he said, talking through clenched teeth.

‘I haven’t seen them,’ said Claire, looking around, ‘I don’t think you had them when you came up.’

Peter approached them and handed Claire her phone back. ‘They’re on their way,’ he said.

‘Have you seen my batons?’

Peter arched backwards, stretching his neck out. ‘Uhhhhh, I think they’re down there still. Why?’

‘I need a splint.’

Peter exaggerated a sigh, ‘I’ll go get them.’

Claire opened her mouth but Peter wasn’t waiting and leapt back down the manhole, head first.

‘He- Dammit,’ said Claire. She finished patching up Matt’s back and sat down next to him. ‘What if he doesn’t get back before the paramedics show up?’

‘Then we’ll have to go get him,’ said Matt.

Claire looked again at his mangled leg and frowned.

A baton flew from the open manhole and fell beside them. Peter shortly followed.

‘Sorry, I could only find the one.’

Matt picked it up and turned it over in his hands. He drew out a long sigh. ‘That’ll do, one is all we need.’ He handed it to Claire.

‘Sorry,’ he repeated.

‘It’s fine,’ said Matt and he grinned, ‘it just means you’ll have to carry me again.’

‘I should probably mention as well that he’s gone,’ said Peter.

The conversation played about between them without a word being spoken. Claire strapped the baton to Matt’s leg and helped him up.

‘You’re not going to let me take you to the hospital, are you,’ said Claire.

‘No, we have to go. Hold on,’ said Matt. He steadied himself on Claire and tried to take a step. His mouth snapped open to scream but Claire covered it with a hand, pulling him close to her. She waited until he found himself again.

‘I can’t,’ said Matt, almost laughing the admission. ‘I can’t.’

‘Should I call a cab?’ said Peter.

‘No,’ said Claire, ‘we don’t want anyone else to now we were around here.’

‘Yeah she’s right. We’re gonna have to walk.’

Peter groaned, ‘Waaaaaalk?!’

‘Yes,’ said Matt, ‘but, first we need to find somewhere to change first. Any ideas?’

Peter sighed and slumped over, his arms dangling in front of him. ‘Okay, follow me. There’s a quiet place not far from here.’ He limped past them to lead the way and Claire noticed the gouge in his calf.

‘Erm, Peter, can I take a look at that?’ she said.

‘Huh?’ The boy twisted around and lifted his leg up, inspecting his injury. ‘Nah, it’s just a flesh wound. I’ll sleep it off.’

‘At least let me bandage it,’ she said.

‘Nah, it’s okay, look.’ Peter put his palm over the wound and covered it with his webbing. ‘There, much better than a bandage.’

Claire grimaced at the sight of the sinewy material. ‘Alright then, let’s go,’ she said.

‘Okay. Oh wait!’ Peter skipped back to the crowd of prisoners. ‘Uhh, hello, everybody?!’

They shuffled around to look at him.

‘If you all just sit tight for a few minutes some paramedics will be here shortly and they’ll take good care of you.’

The prisoners shivered and looked at one another, giving him no response.

‘Jesus,’ muttered Claire.

‘Okay then!’ Peter clapped his hands together and walked away. ‘Good job, team. We did it. Go Team Spider.’ He shot little bursts of web from his wrists up into the air that bloomed like fireworks. ‘Wooo.’

Claire’s mouth hung open and Matt could feel her blood pressure rising. They could all hear the sirens now.

‘Come on,’ said Claire, leading the boys away. ‘Where’s this place?’

‘Not far at all,’ said Peter, hopping to the front of the pack.

Together, they hobbled through the shadows of Queens. Matt’s blood had already soaked through the bandage, he could feel it trickling down past his ankle. He was pushing the pain out by focusing on the aroma of Claire’s shampoo.

‘Alright, down here,’ said Peter, leading them into a narrow alley. The entered one by one so Matt had to steady himself with a hand on both walls. It was as if the two buildings were too disgusted with each other to touch.

After wedging themselves far enough into the crevice, Claire opened up her backpack and dished out their clothes. Peter slid into a pair of jeans and pulled on a t-shirt over his costume. He stretched his limbs out, yawned, and stuffed his feet into his trainers.

‘Aren’t you forgetting something,’ said Claire, her eyebrows raised.

‘Uhhh.’ Peter realised when he went to scratch his head. ‘Oh.’ He peeled off his mask and tossed it into her bag. ‘Thanks.’

Matt had only just managed to put his trousers on. He pulled off his mask and dropped it in the bag. He was sweating.

‘Claire?’ said Peter. He was leaning with his back to the wall, twirling some web around in his fingers.

‘What?’

‘Is it alright if I stay with you for one more night? I’m not sure how I can explain coming home this late.’

Claire exaggerated a groan. ‘Yeah, sure, just don’t leave crumbs all over my sofa.’ She turned back towards Matt. ‘What about you? You should probably rest before heading back to Hell’s Kitchen.’

Matt finished buttoning his shirt and nodded. ‘Yeah. Do you mind?’

‘I don’t mind,’ she said, taking off her surgical mask. She set the backpack down and took out her own change of clothes. ‘Now, can I have some privacy,’ she said.

Peter shut his eyes immediately and turned on the spot to face the wall. Matt closed his eyes too, out of respect. A few seconds later, Claire spoke again.

‘Alright, let’s go home,’ she said, zipping up her bag.

Matt limped out of the alley and waited for the others.

‘Okay, if anyone asks why you two are having trouble walking, just act very, very drunk,’ said Claire, putting an arm around Matt for support.

‘I’ve never been drunk before,’ said Peter.

‘Act like you pulled an all-nighter at the library then.’

Matt covered a laugh.

Peter froze. ‘Oh! That’s a good idea. Phone?’ He held out his hand. Claire sighed and dug it out of her back pocket.

‘Here,’ she said, dumping it in his hand.

‘Thank yoooou,’ he said, tapping out a number. He put it to his ear and waited. Matt could hear ringing coming down the line. Peter gestured for them to keep walking.

‘Hello?’ A tentative voice answered the call.

‘It’s me, Gwen. I need a favour.’

‘Do you have any idea what time it is?’

‘Yeah, I do, but you don’t sound like you were sleeping?’

‘How exactly am I going to sleep when no one’s seen you for days and I you don’t pick up your phone?’

Matt was _trying_ not to listen.

‘Yeah my battery died, I’m sorry.’

‘What’s going on with you lately? This isn’t okay, you know.’

‘I know. I really am sorry, Gwen. I promise I’ll tell you everything as soon as I get back. I just need you to do me one favour.’

‘Tell me what you want and I’ll think about it.’

‘I’ll be home some time tomorrow but when I get back my aunt’s going to ask me where I was, she might even call you.’

‘Oh. You want me to lie for you.’

‘Just a little one. Just say I was staying with you, at yours, studying or something. _Please.’_

Gwen sighed and clicked her teeth.

‘Come on, you knew I was going to say yes before you even called me. Although it means you’re going to be seriously, seriously, in my debt.’

‘I knew that part too,’ said Peter, a little smile playing on his lips. ‘Thanks, Gwen. Right, I have to go. I promise I’ll call you if anything changes.’

‘Yeah, you better,’ she said.

‘I’ll see you soon.’

‘Bye.’

‘Bye.’

Peter ended the call with a hint of reluctance and handed the phone back to Claire.

‘Girlfriend?’ she said, slipping the phone into her pocket.

‘It’s complicated,’ said Peter.

They managed the walk home without significant incident. Occasionally, some insomniac on the street would linger on them too long, but no one said anything. They were probably attending their own secrets.

*

‘This is disgusting.’

He nudged the body with heavy boots, rolling it over, clocking every entry wound. The room smelled like shit and blood and there wasn’t an inch of floor that didn’t have some kind of organ splattered across it.

‘Look at this,’ he said, squatting down and gesturing at the corpse. ‘Two, four, six, eight, ten, eleven. Eleven shots for just one guy. _Eleven_. Learn to fucking shoot. Honestly. _’_

A woman stood by the door, scowling. She was wearing a small black coat that didn’t quite cover her vermillion shorts. ‘Yes, it is a tragedy, Benjamin.’

‘I wouldn’t go that far,’ he said, standing up straight. ‘No, the real tragedy is how bad you are with those things. He nodded at her sais.

Her stare sapped the heat from the room and made his limbs stiffen.

‘You failed to finish off a single wounded, defenceless idiot and now he’s gone right back to shooting up every room he stumbles into. All you had to do was put the pointy bit in the right place but _NO!’_

His yelling caught her off-guard but she didn’t show it.

‘What is your point?’ said Elektra, stepping over one ruined body towards Bullseye. ‘He doesn’t matter to us.’

‘The _point,_ sweetheart, is that so far, you haven’t killed anyone. And I’m starting to wonder if it’s because you’re a talentless slut or if you just don’t have the stones.’

‘I think that you shouldn’t worry about it anymore, Benjamin. You do not have so much hair left to lose.’

Bullseye scoffed. ‘Very professional. Do you want to hear what happened now then?’

‘Yes, that is the only thing I want from you.’

Bullseye pulled a face at her. He pushed a corpse off the sofa and sat down. ‘We’re being watched.’

Elektra’s eyes seemed to be in a permanent state of suspicion. ‘Why do you say this? No one is watching me.’

‘Jesus fucking Christ you stress me out.’ He fingered his tattoo and sank further into the sofa. ‘Do you know about The Avengers? The Falcon?’

‘Of course I know. The temple is not a cave, Benjamin, we do get Wifi.’

‘Great, excellent. So, when I went to go kill the blind lawyer, The Falcon got in my way. That’s the only reason I’m late and that’s what I have to tell you.’

‘The Avengers come here for us? I don’t believe it. You are mistaken.’

‘No, probably not for us, probably for something else. But now they’ve seen me I doubt they’ll forget about it and I doubt it was a coincidence that this moron with the rifle fetish showed up straight after either. Nope.’

‘Okay. I will think about it.’

‘Yeah, you do that,’ he said, standing up suddenly. ‘And one more thing; don’t tell Fisk about this. If he gets cold feet and calls the job off then… well, let’s just say my paycheck has to come from somewhere, love.’

‘I will finish the job soon and then I will forget about your life.’

Bullseye rolled his eyes and muttered under his breath. ‘Good, because I have a meeting with Fisk at the end of the week and I don’t want to have to tell him that it’s taking ten years to kill a blind guy and his tubby friend. Which reminds me, we’re doing the secretary now too.’

‘No, Fisk told me that he would deal with her.’

‘Yeah and the goon squad he sent turned out to be a bunch of fuck-ups, no surprises there. I don’t know, just push her down the stairs or something, at this point does it even fucking matter. I’m pretty sure my reputation is in complete ruins right now since I failed to assassinate a person who literally cannot see.’

‘Maybe you are not as good with aim as you did think?’ said Elektra, stepping towards him, over a corpse. ‘Shall we see?’ She closed her eyes.

‘What are you doing?’

‘I cannot see you, Benjamin, so hit me.’

‘Bitch, you’re fucking crazier than I thought. I understand you’re from some backward-ass oriental shithole where you eat cats and live with cows, but here, in _America_ it’s bad taste to hit a woman.’

‘If you are too scared to hit a woman then I won’t make you.’

Her eyes were still closed.

Bullseye threw a bad punch. He didn’t take time to steady himself, find his centre or plant his feet properly. He lunged for her with a left hook, leaning forward far too much. His fist sailed through the space where her head had been and less than a second later he was lying in a puddle of someone else’s blood, watching the ceiling twinkle.  

Elektra opened her eyes and looked down at Bullseye.

‘Oh dear, Benjamin, what happened? I didn’t see.’

He clawed at the sofa, using it to help himself up. When he got to his feet, he closed the gap between him and Elektra and met her cold stare with his own, scalding one.

‘If you ever touch me again, I’ll put a bullet in you.’

He walked past her, over to the door, blood dripping off his damp clothes. He turned back to her before leaving. ‘And that’s if you’re lucky.’

He left Elektra with the room full of corpses and stepped out into the night.

*

It didn’t take long to get home but Peter complained the whole way. They stumbled into Claire’s apartment at nearly four am. Claire and Matt collapsed on the sofa immediately and Peter threw himself onto the floor, eagle-spread.

‘I’m just saying, we would have been back twenty minutes ago if you would’ve let me swing us.’

‘Maybe it’s because it’s late and I’m really tired, but you seem more annoying than usual,’ said Claire.

Peter scowled and narrowed his eyes at her.

Matt had finally managed to subdue the pain in his leg, blocking it out. Mastering his sense of pain had been one of the last lessons Stick had taught him. Pain, Stick said, was one of the most difficult senses because it requires control over one’s entire body and, rather than involving just the ears or the nose, involved nearly every organ touched by one’s nervous system. To master pain, he said, was to master oneself. He reached down and began unwrapping his wound. Claire slapped his hands away in an instant.

‘Don’t touch that, you need to keep it in place.’

Matt scowled but took her advice. He leaned back on the sofa and closed his eyes.

‘Uh, excuse me,’ said Peter. ‘That’s my spot you’re falling asleep in.’

Matt spoke in a quiet tone without opening his eyes. ‘You seem happy on the floor.’

Peter mimicked laughter. ‘Wow, this is the thanks I get for saving your ass earlier.’

Matt grinned. ‘I was just giving you a chance to show off.’

‘Wow, you’d go through getting your leg ripped off just for me?’

Even Claire laughed that time. She got up from the couch, stretched, yawned and tossed a cushion at Peter. ‘Go on then, get comfortable.’

Peter sprang to his feet and sauntered over to claim his territory.

‘Come on, you,’ said Claire, helping Matt to his feet.

‘Do you have a spare room?’ he asked.

‘No, but I have a pretty big bed. Goodnight, Peter.’

‘Night.’

Matt said goodnight too and Claire helped him into the bedroom. Her room smelled sweet and warm, like a lullaby, and he could feel it wrapping around him and drawing him into bed. Claire pulled off her trainers and got out some pyjamas.

‘How’s your leg?’ she said, slipping out of her hoody.

Matt, sitting on the bed, ran a careful hand over his broken leg. He tapped a finger against it, gently. The pain had mostly gone, half under his control and half drowned by Claire’s aroma. ‘I’ve had worse,’ he said.

‘Really?’

‘Well, just as bad as. But I can handle it knowing that you’re around to stitch me back together.’

‘Hmmm,’ said Claire, she slid out of her black jeans and got changed into her pyjamas. Matt hadn’t expected her to undress in front of him. Once again, he was glad she couldn’t hear his heartrate.

‘Do you help getting undressed?’ Claire asked, her hand was resting on the light switch.

Matt chuckled. ‘No, I’m fine.’

‘Okay,’ she said, extinguishing the light.

Matt took off his shoes with his feet and pulled off his top, folding it and laying it on the end of the bed. Claire moved it to the desk.

‘It’ll just fall off there,’ she said.

Matt nodded and unzipped his trousers, shimmying out of them, awkwardly.

‘At least let me do this bit,’ said Claire.

‘Alright,’ said Matt, taking his hands away.

Claire crouched down and carefully lifted Matt’s broken leg to get his jeans over them. She didn’t seem to struggle with them at all, an indication of her training. Matt was sitting in his underwear, extremely thankful that Stick had taught him how to master his own body.

Claire folded his trousers and put them on the desk with his top. Matt stretched down and pulled off his socks, chucking them over with the rest of his clothes.

‘Thanks,’ he said, manoeuvring himself under the covers, making sure to leave enough room for her.

‘No problem,’ said Claire, throwing back the blanket on her side. ‘Before I get in, are you sure you don’t want any painkillers?’

‘No thanks, I don’t feel pain as much as most people.’

Claire laughed a little under her breath and got into bed. She propped her head up on her elbow and faced him. ‘Okay, how does that work?’

‘Just, the same way that you can make a song fade into the background. I can turn down the pain.’

Claire furrowed her brow and pulled the blanket up close to her collar.

‘Could you turn it up, too?’

‘Sure, just by focusing on it, living in it more.’

‘Well this explains how you can take such a beating and keep going out there. I knew it wasn’t the Catholicism.’

Matt chuckled and Claire joined him.

‘So, you can “turn up” all your senses then? Balance, sound, stuff like that?’

She was radiating heat, lighting a fire under the covers that pulled at him like gravity.

‘Yeah, pretty much. Pain was the hardest to learn how to control. It’s hard not to focus on pain and pleasure. You have to set an anchor to draw yourself away from it.’

‘So, you can choose whether or not to feel this?’

Claire touched her fingertips to Matt’s chest.

‘Yeah.’

She let her palm lie flat on his breastplate and edged closer to him.

‘Are you turning it down or turning it up?’

Matt took her hand in his and closed the space between them. He entwined their fingers and held her hand on the pillow, above her head. Claire burned through her pyjamas and she curled a leg around his uninjured one. She felt smooth even to him. They were dragging it out. Lingering inches away from each other’s lips. Matt traced his fingertips behind her ear, over her jaw, down her neck. She felt like tempered glass underneath him. They touched noses. Claire’s fingers tightened around his, bringing him closer. Matt slid his leg up the inside of hers. Their foreheads touched and they listened to their shallow breaths, lips trembling.

Claire put a hand around the back of his neck, fingers winding, up, through his hair. Their chests were pressed together. Their heartbeats; a rapid tremolo, reverberating throughout Matt’s body. His hand travelled along her body, enjoying the firmness of her hips, the softness of her stomach, the curve of her ribcage, the subtle rise of her breasts, and she let out a long and primal sigh as he arrived there, resting at the cup of her bra. Claire moaned in low tones that splashed against Matt’s eager lips. Her fingers writhed in his hair, filling themselves with it and Matt brought himself to loom over her, leaning over her body, going in for the kiss. He wanted that moment, lingering above her lips, to live forever. Claire wasn’t going to wait that long. Matt raised a hand to the buttons of Claire’s pyjama shirt.

‘May I?’

 Claire nodded and breathed a yes.

His fingers unhooked the buttons easily and he slid his hand inside, cupping her breast, running his thumb over its subtle arch. Claire brought her teeth to bear on his neck, he tasted sweet on her tongue. Matt guided her chin towards his lips. He needed her mouth. They kissed out a symphony. After an eternity, Claire pulled away and pulled off her shirt, dropping it off the edge of the bed. She pushed Matt away, softly, taking time to catch her breath and rolled onto her back, sliding out of her pyjama bottoms. Matt ran a hand down her chest, he could feel every pore, every healed scar, every tremble.

‘Do you want me?’ she said, taking his hand and entwining his fingers in hers.

‘I want you.’

Lying back, in only her black lace, she pulled him towards her.

‘Then take me.’

They spent the night throwing off the blanket and losing their souls in one another.

*

Karen was sitting at her desk at Nelson and Murdock, reading the news, when, finally, her boss turned up.

‘Am I the only one who shows up on time anymore?’ said Karen, as Foggy walked through the door at quarter past nine.

‘Yes, Karen,’ said Foggy, sitting down and opening his laptop. ‘I’m sorry to tell you this but you’re a huge dork.’

Karen pulled the charger from his laptop and switched off the plug socket.

‘Ugh! How dare you do this to me? You’re supposed to be employee of the month and this is how you act? You’re on thin ice, Miss Page.  

_Miss Page. Miss Page. Miss Page. Miss Page. Miss Page._

Karen faked a laugh and put her head down to shuffle some papers. Foggy frowned but let her be.

‘Matt’s not here yet either?’ said Foggy, trying to sound casual.

‘Nope, to be honest until you showed up I thought you were slacking off together. Want me to give him a call?’

Foggy tapped a pen against his desk and made a long humming sound. Eventually, it turned into speech. ‘Mmmmmno, best not. I mean, we’re not his parents. He’s a big boy.’

Karen’s eyes searched him and Foggy felt layers of his confidence being peeled away.

‘Things still aren’t the same between you two. Before Ben, you would have been so worried about him. What happened? Am I ever going to find out? Are you ever going to tell me?’

Foggy let out a long sigh and stopped avoiding Karen’s eyes, allowing her to see the pain concealed behind them.

‘I don’t like keeping anything from you, Karen, but it’s not my decision to make. Matt has some secrets and, as his friends, we just have to respect that. I think.’

She hesitated, opening and closing her mouth a few times before the words could properly form. ‘Do you think I should know?’

Foggy stopped tapping the pen, set it down and began scrunching up his face. ‘I don’t think you _need_ to know. But I think keeping secrets from friends is counteractive to a good friendship. If Matt trusts you he should tell you and if he doesn’t trust you then you shouldn’t be friends, let alone colleagues.’

Karen nodded along with his words and dropped her eyes, retreating into thought.

They both looked up, a moment later, when the sound of someone entering the building reached them. The irregular clacking of Matt’s cane against stone gave them enough time to prepare for his arrival. Matt could feel them watching the door, waiting for him to step into the office. He straightened his suit and shook the pain out of his wounded leg.

‘Hey pal, were your ears burning?’

‘Morning Foggy, Karen, sorry I’m late.’ He staggered over to his desk, half-supporting himself on his cane and sat down.

Suddenly, Foggy couldn’t decide to sit or stand and Karen’s face had turned hard.

‘What happened to your leg?’ said Foggy, leaning over his desk towards Matt.

‘Oh, I think I twisted my ankle, coming off the curb, on the way here.’

Foggy’s chin was quivering and Karen’s eyes snapped back and forth between the two lawyers.

‘You didn’t think about going to the hospital? Getting it checked out? Calling us to let us know?’ said Foggy.

Matt forced a weak chuckle. ‘What, and leave you two sinners here alone? Nothing would get done.’

‘Hm, yeah,’ said Foggy, snatching up a sheet of paper and screwing it into a ball. ‘Hey, think fast.’ He threw the paper meteor at his partner, expecting him to dodge it, but Matt took the collision to the face and flinched back perfectly.

‘Foggy,’ Matt muttered.

Foggy picked the pen back up and chucked it at Matt again. This time he raised his hands defensively and shied away from the projectile. His face was lined with a deep frown whilst Karen looked on, utterly bewildered.

Next Foggy grabbed his wireless mouse and took careful aim at his partner’s forehead.

‘Foggy, what are you doing?!’

He ignored her and let it soar towards Matt’s face.

Matt snatched the mouse out of the air before it got too close and Karen caught the action from the corner of her eye. Her mouth hung open for only a second and then she hurled her own mouse at him. He caught that one too.

‘What the hell is…’ The next word seemed to catch in her mouth like a bad smell. ‘You can see?!’

She stood up and strode over to Matt’s side of the desk, tearing off his glasses and looking into his eyes. She waved her hand in front of it but his eyes didn’t react. Karen looked toward Foggy for an explanation but he simply pursed his lips and condemned her to fumble through it alone.

‘Matt,’ said Karen, standing over him, ‘are you really blind? What’s going on here? What happened to your leg? What the fuck are you two keeping from me?!’

Foggy growled at Matt and jumped up from his seat. ‘Just tell her! There’s no reason to keep if from her anymore! What are you afraid of!?’

Matt set the mice down on his desk with an expression of incredible guilt forming on his face.

‘You might want to sit down,’ said Matt, trying to avoid facing her.

Karen glared at him and walked back to her side of the desk, tossing Matt’s shades down in front of him.

‘Well?’ she said, leaning back in her chair and looking over at him with crossed arms.

Matt took a long breath and straightened up in his chair, facing Karen. He left his shades off. Foggy couldn’t decide what to do with his hands. He stood up.

‘I have to go to the bathroom. Two or three times.’ He edged around the desk and out of the room whilst Karen and Matt ignored him, focused, instead, on one another.

Matt placed his hands flat down on the desk. ‘I’m gonna start from the beginning with this so that it makes more sense.’

Karen’s expression was stone cold and her arms were crossed. She was stiff in her chair but leaning forward just slightly. They heard Foggy shut himself in the bathroom door and run the tap.

‘After I went blind I started to change, painfully. It was like being in a crowded stadium with a razor-sharp hangover. Every second of the day my head pounded with pain and noise, my nose burnt constantly, taking in smells from all over the city. Imagine, using your eyes for the very first time and everything you look at is like staring into the sun.’

‘Right, okay.’

‘The doctors put me on pain meds, and I stayed on them until my dad died, but the nuns didn’t want me taking them all the time. So the pain came back. After a while, they brought someone in to take a look at me. Not a doctor, more like a… social worker. Blind, like me.’

Matt could feel her crossed arms falling slack and her face softening.  

‘He told me that I needed to get used to how my senses had changed, that I didn’t have to be in pain all the time. He taught me how to get it all under control. And then he taught me how to use them. I thought he was looking out for me, that, maybe, he felt sorry for me. He didn’t. He was training me to be a killer.’

Karen’s heartrate had been steadily increasing since he started talking.

‘I’ve never killed anyone, Karen.’

Her body didn’t relax.

‘But I have tried, once… Do you want me to go on?’

‘Yes.’

Matt fiddled with his shades.

‘Remember when Foggy and I fell out and I was covered in bruises?’

‘How could I forget?’

‘The night before, I’d gone out, looking for Fisk. It was a trap. Foggy found me at home, in pieces. That’s how he found out.’

Karen was breathing so quietly Matt had to concentrate to pick it out. The world had turned unnaturally silent.

‘Say it plainly,’ she said, her voice inhabiting a single, low tone.

‘I’m the man in black. The Daredevil.’

Karen nodded and swallowed hard. ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’

‘I didn’t know how. This is the first time it’s ever felt right.’

Both their hearts were racing now. Karen stood up and walked away from the desk. Matt heard her knock on the bathroom door and lead Foggy back to the office. She sat him next to Matt and stood over them both.

‘You kept this from me for months, after what we went through, you still couldn’t tell me.’

‘There’s no excuse for keeping it from you for so long, Karen.’

‘Well, I would have told you ages ago if it was my secret. Just saying, I’m _way_ more sorry and less guilty than Matt.’

Matt kicked him under the table.

‘Ow!’ Foggy glared at him. ‘Okay, you know what? Karen! Matt can tell when you’re lying. Oh yeah.’

Karen’s expression turned from one of concentration to disapproval, followed closely by fear. Her mouth wrinkled and her brow bowed as she flipped through every white and black lie that passed through her lips. Her hands were beginning to shake.

‘I need time,’ she said, snatching up her bag and heading for the door.

Foggy stood up to follow her immediately but Matt grabbed his hand, stalling him.

‘Let her go,’ he said, speaking in a flat and subdued tone.

Foggy gave him a hesitant look before breaking away from Matt’s hold. ‘Dammit,’ he said, slumping back down into his seat.

‘I hope you at least told her that we’re being stalked _before_ you made her walk out.’

Matt furrowed his brow and groaned, pulling out his second phone.

‘Call Sam.’

Foggy watched him curiously.

‘Hey, Karen’s just left. Could you keep an eye on her?’

Matt ignored his partner’s dropped jaw.

‘Just make sure no one follows her. I don’t need to know what she’s doing or where she’s going, anything like that.’

‘Better,’ said Foggy.

‘No problem, I’ll ask Natasha, she likes disguises.’

‘Thanks, Sam.’

‘Anytime.’

Matt hung up and tossed the phone onto his desk.

‘Did he mention me at all?’ asked Foggy.

‘What? No, why would he?’

‘No reason.’

‘Foggy, I’m a human lie detector. I can feel blood warming up your cheeks.’

‘Urgh, I’ll tell you later. Alright? This doesn’t exactly feel like the right time to talk about it.’

‘Sure, okay.’

Matt took up his cane and heaved himself to his feet. He stretched his neck and turned towards his partner.

‘I’m getting a drink. You want one?’ He asked, limping over to the back room.

‘Uhh, how late do you think you were? I mean, I know you can’t technically see when the sun rises and sets but it’s barely ten o’clock.’

‘Sometimes I can feel the direction of the sun’s rays and I know that that way,’ Matt jerked his head towards the door, ‘is north, so I could tell the time like that, even if my watch wasn’t braille so…’

‘I already knew about your fancy watch, Murdock, stop trying to show off. It’s not flattering.’

Matt shrugged and opened the fridge, plucking out a beer and cracking the top off with his cane.

‘Why do we even have that here?’ said Foggy, leaning so far over his desk that he could no longer be said to be sitting down.

‘In case of emergencies,’ said Matt, taking a sip. ‘And this counts as an emergency. Are you sure you don’t want one?’

‘Pretty sure. You know, we actually have a lot of work to do. Hell’s Kitchen needs Matt Murdock the lawyer just as much as it needs Daredevil. You know that, right?’

The bottle pressed to his lips, Matt paused and set it down, returning to his desk.

‘Yeah, you’re right. Sorry.’

‘Don’t worry about it, pal. That’s why I’m here. Foggy Nelson; lawyer slash life coach extraordinaire.’ He leaned back in his chair and opened his laptop. ‘Where do you think she’s going, anyway?’

‘I don’t know. Frankly, we don’t know that much about Karen. Especially who she was before Union Allied.’

Foggy opened his mouth but surrendered immediately. A concerned expression blossoming on his face, his lower lip jutting out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I've literally abandoned all my other hobbies with the intent of getting this finished and out for y'all to read. No more month-long delays, I promise.


	9. Chapter 9

The streets were as busy as ever but when her eyes met Frank’s it was like everyone else turned to stone and the world evaporated. He saw her, he recognised her and, for a brief second, he seemed happy about it. That was until something behind her caught his attention and turned his gaze sour. The Punisher turned away and ploughed ahead, through the swarming crowd. When Karen looked behind her, she saw a gorgeous woman looking back. For a moment, she wondered what kind of situation she’s found herself in, but the returning look was not one of jealousy but, rather, one of focus and it spurred Karen on. She turned back around just in time to see Frank ducking down an alleyway. She sped up, pushing her way past a thousand strangers.

Karen turned the corner and found The Punisher already on the other side of a tall, mesh fence. They caught each other’s eyes again and, again, something behind her distracted him. Without a word, he walked quickly away without a single look back. Karen watched him, certain that she could never scale the fence fast enough to catch up with him. She let herself catch her breath before turning around. The woman in red stood, observing her, at the mouth of the alley.

Karen felt rooted to the spot as the woman in red surveyed her top to bottom. She slipped a careful hand into her purse and tried to steel her nerves. The woman took a few steps toward her and Karne found herself mirroring them, backing herself into the mesh fence.

‘So, you are the one that sent _him_ to us.’

Her voice came across like poisoned honey and she had an accent that Karen couldn’t pinpoint at all. She sounded like someone who had travelled the world and knew how to hide within it.

Karen said nothing but gripped the mace tighter.

The woman in red halted her approach, eyeing Karen’s bag.

‘Fisk told me many stories of you. He say, “Miss Page is a drug. She hooks everyone around her and destroys them. Just to get her way.”’

The woman opened her crimson coat, revealing a long dagger on each hip. Karen dropped the mace and picked up the gun, still concealed inside her purse.

‘Matthew always found himself around the wrong type of woman.’

Karen didn’t see her move but she heard the clang of metal on metal and suddenly the bottom of her bag split wide open, its contents spilling out before she could react. Her gun was on the ground by her feet and Karen knew she would never pick it up in time.

Her voice was hard and hot but it still shook when she spoke.

‘What do you want?’ she said, letting her tattered bag fall to the ground.

Elektra took a few further steps towards Karen. The sun glinted off her sais and her dark eyes glistened.

‘Just your life.’

From far above, something dropped down between them like a large cat. Another woman, dressed entirely in black. She stopped holding her breath when the newcomer faced away from her and towards the woman in red.

Natasha took in her surroundings and the woman that opposed her. She settled on Elektra’s sais and a subtle smile played on her lips.

‘Those are cute,’ she said. The Black Widow pulled off her long, blonde wig and unsheathed her fangs. The short batons crackled menacingly with electricity and the sparks lit up Elektra’s face with a bright, blue light. Over her shoulder, Natasha spoke to Karen.

‘Call the lawyers. Tell them where we are.’

Karen nodded and bent down to pick up her phone, the screen had a crack across it. Her hands shook as she scrolled through her phonebook.

Suddenly, her phone was gone again, replaced by a rapidly blooming red line across her palm. Splinters of plastic and metal lay scattered throughout the alley, a razor-sharp shuriken among them. Blood seeped out of the wound, dripping down onto her shoes. Karen snatched up her pistol with her good hand but the assassins were already duelling.

Natasha’s eyes darted around, following Elektra’s sais as they flashed against her own fangs, all the humour completely discarded from her expression, replaced with incredible focus… and something darker.

Now Karen could only watch and pray that her new guardian proved quicker than the woman that had stalked her. But every strike Nat mounted grazed its target and the woman in red punished her attacks, responding with ferocious and calculated blows. Elektra countered with the persistence of a waterfall, her sais crashing fluidly against her opponent, as if it was only natural to cascade upon anything in her way.

The two assassins clashed again and again, their weapons becoming a neon dance that outpaced Karen’s eyes, all the while, they circling one another, searching for a weakness. Something between frustration and desperation was beginning to show on The Widow’s face but Elektra remained an image of patience.

Natasha’s eyes flickered over to Karen and she winced at The Widow’s mistake.

‘If you can’t shoot give it to me!’ she yelled, slipping an attack that _just_ nicked her shoulder blade. Nat gasped, but her resolve didn’t break. She dodged another strike and hissed, releasing a flurry of blows at Elektra from all angles, shattering her guard.

The mistake Nat had been waiting for arrived, their weapons collided, blade to blade, for the last time. Nat twisted, violently, and sent Elektra’s sais spinning to the ground. Blue light flashed, obscuring the sight, but when it cleared, Karen saw Natasha pressing her baton against Elektra’s torso. Elektra quaked dramatically as hundreds of volts of pain coursed through her body before. No sound came out of her mouth but her face held a scream. She fell to her hands and knees, trembling, before finally collapsing to the ground.

Natasha took a step back and turned towards Karen.

‘Here,’ she said, stretching out a hand for the gun. Karen tossed it to her and as she caught it a blood-curling scream erupted from her throat. The point of a sai appeared through her stomach.

Natasha dropped the pistol immediately, her hands hovering over the protruding blade. When she reached behind to pull it out from the back, she felt a hand on her shoulder. The blade withdrew and a spurt of blood escaped from the wound, splashing onto the floor. She dropped to her knees and pressed both hands against the puncture, as firmly as she could bare.

Karen crumbled alongside her, her eyes bloodshot, her mouth cracked open, arms limp at her sides. She started to feel sick.

Elektra stood over Natasha as she kneeled and lightly brushed her hair away from her neck, clearing the way to her throat, the bloody sai in her other hand. Natasha lunged around fiercely, aiming an elbow at Elektra’s stomach but it was an easy manoeuvre to avoid and the assassin in red shoved her forward, face first, into the wet stone. The crunch of bone rippled down the alley.

Elektra bent down and pulled Natasha back up, a hand closed around her chin, the edge of the sai pressed hungrily against her jugular.

‘I take no pleasure in this,’ she said, speaking the words directly into The Widow’s ear.

‘Don’t _fucking_ move!’ said Sam, both pistols aimed at Elektra. He overlooked the scene from above, standing at the edge of a rooftop. Elektra looked up at him, slowly, a blaze behind her eyes. Sam matched it, his aim was steady.

‘Shoot her, Sam,’ Nat spluttered. Her hands were red and soaked. Falcon was too far away to hear.

‘Just shoot.’ Words that only Karen seemed to notice.

‘Elektra!’

Every head whipped around to face the mouth of the alley.

The two lawyers stood there, side by side, obstructing the way out. Foggy looked pale as a sheet, even more so compared to a thunderously dark Matt Murdock.

‘Let her go.’

Suddenly, Sam, Karen, Nat _and_ Foggy were on the outside looking in. Elektra loosened her grip on Nat just barely. Karen could see Natasha struggling to keep her eyes open.

Matt hobbled forward with Foggy watching him, wide-eyed.

‘Elektra, please, you don’t have to do this.’

Karen felt the mesh fence rattle and saw heavy, black boots drop to the ground beside her. Elektra wasn’t moving. Sam still had his guns out. Foggy’s eyes were fixed on the pool of blood surrounding the two assassins.

Matt heard the footsteps of the newcomer but didn’t dare react to them. Not while he had Elektra’s attention.

‘She is another one of yours?’ Elektra asked, winding Natasha’s hair around her wrist.

‘She’s my friend. Why are you here?’

She gave him nothing.

‘You work for Fisk now?’

The footsteps continued in their approach, yet no one, other than Matt seemed to give them any thought. By the time he recognized them, they were accentuated by the sound of a firearm being cocked.

Elektra snapped around to examine the noise and came face to face with The Punisher. He had his gun raised, less than a yard from her face. Elektra let Natasha go and she crumpled to the ground. Frank eyed her sais and a crooked grin appeared upon his lips.

‘Sayonara, bi-’

Before he could finish, Matt swept up a trash can, swinging it wide around by the rim and smashing it into the side of the Punisher’s face. Frank’s gaze went blank and his body crashed hard into the ground. Elektra saw her chance and took it. Crouching to the ground, she knocked Matt’s cane out from under him and the lawyer toppled to his knees. Sam fired a shot, grazing Elektra’s hip and leaving a black mark on the ground. She didn’t give him a second shot, launching the rest of shuriken up at him. Sam ducked for cover, just a touch too late, taking one directly over his heart.

Matt snatched up his cane and staggered to his feet but Elektra was already at the mouth of the alley, easily knocking Foggy out of the way and taking off down the street. Matt didn’t want to give chase. Nor could he without both legs. Instead, he turned to The Punisher, who was beginning to blink himself back to consciousness. A huge red bruise dominated the left side of his face. Karen walked over to him, her eyes unfocused as if she were sleepwalking, and dropped onto his back, handcuffing him. After they clicked shut on his wrists, she picked up his gun and sat herself down with her back to the wall. A moment later, and Sam was among them, folding his wings down. He went straight to Natasha.

Foggy joined the group, just as stunned as Karen. He couldn’t take his eyes off Natasha. Sam bent down and, carefully, lifted The Black Widow into his arms.

‘Nat, can you hear me?’

She mumbled a response which, by itself, brought a desperate smile to Sam’s face. Even Karen looked up to see how she fared.

‘I need to get her to a hospital. Right now,’ said Sam.

Natasha was back to trying to put pressure on her wounds.

‘Yeah. Go. Go. We’ll take care of him,’ said Matt.

The Punisher was sitting up, watching the exchange, his hands stuck behind his back.

Sam unfurled his wings and took off, cautiously, Natasha smearing her blood over the back of his neck as she held on. Matt couldn’t “see” them leaving very well, but still heard a few drops of liquid splash to the ground. Foggy came to his senses as Falcon disappeared into the sky and looked around the alley as though he’d never seen one before. Matt was too wrapped up in his thoughts. It had been years since Elektra had last been part of his life. They had both changed so much.

Eventually, Foggy went over to Karen and crouched down to her level. She had her arms wrapped around her keens, holding the gun so loosely that the muzzle nearly touched the ground.

‘Can I have that?’ Foggy said, putting a hand on the barrel. Karen let it go without a word. He sat down next to her and put his arm around her shoulders, dropping the gun beside him.

‘I’m going to get you all killed,’ she mused, languidly.

‘This is nothing to do with you, Karen,’ said Foggy, squeezing her, softly. ‘We live in a bad place. It’s not your fault.’

‘Who was she?’

Karen directed the question towards Matt, even taking her eyes off the gorund to look at him.

He hesitated.

‘Don’t lie to me,’ she added.

Matt stretched his head back and ran a hand down behind his neck. ‘I dated her in college but we haven’t talked in years. She disappeared.’

Foggy perked up. ‘You told me she went back home to Spain.’

‘Greece,’ said Matt, ‘but, no. That’s what she told me but I could tell she was lying.’

‘And now she’s trying to kill us on Fisk’s orders. Okay. What about this guy?’ He jabbed his thumb towards the incapacitated Punisher.

‘I don’t know, really.’

‘I do,’ Karen said, slowly getting to her feet. ‘His name’s Frank Castle, formerly Castiglione. Fisk had his family killed while he was on tour. They were in witness protection but Fisk’s cops gave them up.’

Foggy’s gaze softened, surveying the subdued man.

Frank was staring at Karen with a blend of curiosity and surprise on his face.

‘How do you know that?’ asked Matt.

‘I…’ Karen remembered who she was talking to. ‘I have my ways.’

Matt scowled but accepted it.

‘I don’t think we have any options other than calling the cops,’ he said.

The Punisher’s face turned to stone again and he dropped his gaze.

‘We weeded out most of the corruption when we put Fisk away,’ said Karen, trying to get Frank’s attention again.

‘I’ll call Brett,’ said Foggy, ‘I’ll say it’s a special case.’

‘Alright,’ said Matt. ‘We should probably explain the whole story to him.’

*

‘This is gonna make me very popular,’ said Brett, leading the three into his office. ‘He was starting to make us look stupid.’

‘What?! Impossible!’ said Foggy with a huge grin.

‘Does someone need to take a time-out in the drunk tank?’ said Brett, sternly.

Foggy covered his grin with his hands. ‘No, sir. Lieutenant.’

Brett stopped glaring at him and turned back towards the adults.

‘There’s just one thing,’ said Matt. ‘Keep it quiet, for now.’

‘Why?’

‘We still don’t know who gave his family up,’ said Karen. ‘Sure, we think we got all of Fisk’s cops but we can’t take that risk. If someone finds out who he is, they might try to protect themselves.’

‘Giving witnesses out to Fisk.’ Brett span a coin around on his desk. ‘It was probably Blake. Alright, I’ll put my best on him.’

‘Thanks, Brett,’ said Matt.

Foggy faked a cough. ‘KHRRLieutenant.’

Matt and Brett rolled their eyes simultaneously whilst Foggy and Karen concealed their smiles. The moment between them was cut short by the shattering sound of a gunshot.

‘What the fuck,’ mumbled Brett, drawing his gun immediately.

Suddenly, they could hear shooting through the door. Screaming. More gunshots followed, igniting, what sounded like, a fully-fledged firefight in the precinct. Brett put his radio to his mouth.

‘What going on out there?’

Karen thought back to when they watched Fisk’s swat team break him out.

A voice answered through the radio. ‘We’re being fired on from the front entrance. Three officers down already.’

They heard every bullet fire twice, repeating from the radio.

‘Who is it and how many?’ Brett asked, his voice was loud and anxious.

‘It’s just one guy! Shit! I- I think he’s nearly here.’

Matt almost gagged. He could smell him. The other assassin.

‘He’s here for us,’ he said, snatching up his cane.

‘What?!’

‘Fisk sent him.’

‘I’ll call the other stations.’

A gunshot echoed through the radio followed by the sound of a boot stamping down, smashing it to pieces.

‘They’re coming,’ said Foggy.

‘Help me!’ growled Karen, putting her weight behind a file cabinet.

Foggy joined her immediately and, together, they toppled the cabinet, blocking the door.

‘We have to get out of here, right now,’ said Matt.

Brett’s knuckles were bone-white, squeezed around his pistol.

‘The only way out is through there,’ he said, nodding at the barricaded door.

Matt bowed his head and concentrated, tapping his foot on the floor.

‘No, there’s another way,’ said Matt, taking the cheap, metal chair from Brett’s desk. He hobbled quickly over to the wall and put the chair legs against it, leaning on them and allowing his cane to drop to the floor. He pushed away, rocking back on his good leg, and drove the chair into the wall, piercing it through. Twisting it around, chunks of plaster flew away, leaving a chair-sized hole in the side of Brett’s office. On the other side of the room, the door handle rattled and the filing cabinet budged.

‘Help me,’ Matt urged, retrieving his cane and tearing away at the dry wall with his free hand.

Foggy and Karen darted over to him, ripping the hole wider.

Brett had his gun aimed at the blocked door.

‘Are you just gonna stand there, _lieutenant?’_ asked Foggy.

The cabinet moved some more.

‘I’m not gonna abandon my officers. Take the back exit and get outta here.’

Foggy moved to snatch the gun away from him but Matt caught him by the collar and pulled him towards the hole. Foggy shook out of his grasp, irritably, but didn’t protest. Matt waited for the others to pass through the hole before following. The cabinet budged again.

Matt lingered on the other side of the hole, searching for some words that would sway Brett’s resolve.

‘Just go!’ shouted the lieutenant, his gun still pointed at the door.

‘Thank you,’ Matt said, leaving him behind.

The back of the precinct was completely empty, with everyone fled or confronting the shooter.

‘When we get out of here, you’re gonna have to tell me exactly what the hell is going on,’ growled Karen, leading the way.

‘We will,’ said Foggy, nervously looking over his shoulder.

They found the way out without incident and, as they stepped out onto the street, a fresh round of gunfire burst to life behind them. It didn’t last long and, afterwards, Matt heard someone in Brett’s office reloading. His heart sank as his brain tried, frantically, to deny. He didn’t tell the others. Foggy and Karen stood, rooted to the spot, as Matt hobbled ahead of them.

‘Let’s go,’ he yelled.

Tearing themselves away, they caught up with him quickly and then the door swung open.

Bullseye stepped out. His eyes finding them instantly. Foggy froze in place upon seeing the assassin. Karen and Matt dragged him along. Bullseye took aim. Once again, the back door flew open, slamming into Bullseye’s back and knocking the shot harmlessly into the air. Bullseye tumbled to his hands and knees, twisting his neck around to see The Punisher emerge from the precinct. His gun had soared far out of reach.

Frank Castle stepped forward and Bullseye lashed out viciously, kicking the ex-soldier straight in the gut. Frank only took a second to shake the blow off but Bullseye was on his feet already, starting off down the street. He scarpered away like a rat, so rapidly that Frank hardly entertained the thought of chasing him. Instead, he walked over to the discarded gun, and turned it on its former master.

Frank was a good shot, with almost six years of service, but the sirens were quickly closing in on him and he didn’t have enough time. He fired the rest of the clip wildly at Bullseye but only one bullet found its target. Frank, as well as Foggy and Karen, saw the last bullet strike Bullseye’s right hand, completely dismembering his middle finger. The assassin let loose an ear-splitting scream that made Matt scramble to cover his ears. Despite the injury, Bullseye kept up his pace and, soon enough, he was out of sight.

The fleeing trio had stopped running long ago, mesmerized since Frank’s appearance. Now, they had to think of their next move.

‘We need somewhere to hide out,’ said Matt, ‘we can’t go home or back to the office.’

Gradually, the other two gave him their attention.

‘Uhh, we can go to Jean’s. They won’t look for us there.’

‘Is it far?’

‘Not very,’ she said, brushing hair out of her face.

Police cruisers were beginning to turn up now, surrounding The Punisher.

‘We should go. Now,’ said Matt.

They rushed away but couldn’t resist periodically looking over their shoulders to watch the latest confrontation.

Several officers were shouting and aiming at Frank, their cars completely boxing him against the precinct. They seemed to bellow in unison.

‘Put it down! Put the gun down or we will open fire!’

Frank looked at his stolen handgun, silently, and slowly placed it on the ground. He followed up by putting his hands behind his head and dropping to his knees. For the second time that day, he found himself in cuffs.

‘It’s over,’ said Matt, pulling on the other two.

They drifted along with him, still stealing glances at The Punisher as the cops bundled him into the back of the nearest cruiser.

‘What if they kill him?’ said Karen.

Matt frowned deeply and spoke through clenched teeth. ‘We can’t save anyone without helping ourselves first.’

He couldn’t tell if Karen appreciated the sentiment but a short moment later she was leading the way to Jean’s place.

*

The four gathered around Jean’s dinner table whilst Foggy had his phone out and a look on his face that Karen had never seen before.

‘Have you found anything?’ she asked, peering over his shoulder.

It took him a while to respond and, when he did, his lips barely moved. ‘All dead,’ he said, dimly.

Jean put a hand on Karen’s shoulder, looking down at her with a something pooling in her eyes.

‘All of them?’

‘Apart from the few that ran away.’

Karen turned deathly white as all the hope and blood drained from her face. Matt faced the floor, completely rigid, a hard grip on his cane. Tears were making their way towards Foggy’s chin. Karen burst, gasping, hyperventilating, clutching Jean’s top and weeping. Jean put her coffee down and held her with both arms. Matt shook tremendously and kept to himself. He struggled to get his voice steady before trying to speak.

‘Do you have a spare room I can meditate in?’

Jean looked over at him. ‘Er, yeah, opposite the bathroom. Let me-’

‘It’s alright, I can find it,’ he said, leaving without another ord. Matt closed the door behind him. The others heard his thud to the carpet.

‘They haven’t caught him,’ Foggy said, still thumbing through his phone.

Karen thought to get her breathing under control as Jean stroked her hair.

Finally, Foggy put his phone down on the table and buried his head in his arms, occasionally convulsing.

‘You can stay as long as you like,’ said Jean, quietly.

Karen nodded, pressing her face into Jean’s torso and wrapping her arms around her waist.

*

Hours passed before Matt returned from the spare room, limping less than he had that morning. The sun was beginning to set and the shooting – the slaughter – at the precinct had made its way onto the evening news. Karen and Foggy were asleep on the sofa together, a thin green blanket draped over them. Their eyes were red and sore from earlier but, at the moment, they looked peaceful. The room was dark and Jean was sitting along at her table, headphones on and laptop open. They came off when she noticed him. Her dark skin glowed beautifully in the light of the sinking sun.

‘They’re still looking for him,’ she said, whispering as not to disturb the dreamers.

Matt sat down with a long exhale.

‘I could have dragged him away,’ he said, slowly rotating his cane on the spot. ‘I could have got him out.’

Jean closed her laptop and shifted around in her seat to face him. ‘He didn’t want you to,’ she said. ‘Foggy told me he wanted to stay. He didn’t do that for no good reason.’

‘I’m _so_ tired of not being enough; not being able to save my friends.’

‘Shut up,’ Jean said, leaning forward and putting a hand on Matt’s knee. ‘You saved Karen. More than once. And your friend didn’t want to be saved. He wanted to save you. Now I know that’s hard for a Catholic to hear, but I’m sorry, you don’t always get to be the martyr.’

Matt gave a tired laugh.

‘Are they okay?’ he asked, tilting his head at Karen and Foggy.

‘They will be. She’s strong. Much stronger than either of you know. And Foggy? Well, he’s got you.’

She was actually bringing a smile to his face. ‘You’re definitely an Ulrich,’ he said.

‘Yep. I’m hoping to buck the family tradition though and actually live to see retirement.’

That time he didn’t laugh.

‘Sorry, bad joke,’ she said.

Matt stopped turning his cane and pressed the end softly against his chin.

‘What about Frank Castle?’

Jean swivelled back to her laptop, opening it and clicking through to a different tab. ‘Well, there’s nothing on the news about him aside from a vague mention of his arrest but, a little bird told me that, they’re shipping him to Riker’s on the next bus which is…’ a few more clicks, ‘tomorrow evening.’

‘Still alive, then.’

Jean took a deep breath. ‘Not to be callous, but if there was anyone at that precinct that did sell out his family to Fisk, there ain’t no more. He should be fine.’

‘Yeah.’ Matt stood up. ‘I’m gonna get back to it,’ he said, heading back to the spare room. He stopped in the door way and turned back so she could see his face. ‘Thanks for this, Jean, I can’t describe how helpful you’ve been.’

‘Really? Not even with that big, lawyer vocabulary?’

Matt grinned awkwardly.

‘It’s alright,’ she said, ‘It’s one family tradition I _don’t_ mind continuing. Just don’t make me regret it.’

‘I’ll do my best,’ he said, turning away.

‘Wait, hold on,’ Jean said, watching her screen, ‘Someone’s coming.’

Her laptop had a live view of her front door and the hallway outside.

‘Who?’

‘Old guy, thin, short hair, blind.’

Matt separated his cane into batons and approached the door, listening to the footsteps outside. Jean disappeared into her bedroom and returned, seconds later, with a loaded handgun. She stuck it down the back of her waistband and stood beside Matt.

Matt knew who it was before opening the door.

‘Hey kid,’ Stick said, stepping over the threshold. ‘Got any beer?’

He walked past the two as Jean eyed him suspiciously, her hand on the grip of her gun.

‘It’s okay,’ said Matt. ‘He’s on our side… Or, at least, he’s not on their side.’

Jean let her hand fall to her side and they pursued Stick into the lounge.

‘Try to be quiet,’ said Matt, gesturing toward the pair snoozing on the sofa. ‘They’ve had a long day.’

‘Cute,’ Stick said. ‘Drink?’

‘I don’t drink,’ said Jean, ‘we’ve got coffee.’

Stick scowled, the weathered terrain of his face criss-crossed with stress lines. He sat down at the table, taking off his shades and rubbing his eyes.

‘Why are you here?’ said Matt, already feeling impatient his old tutor.

‘I thought it was obvious,’ he said, replacing his glasses.

Matt said nothing.

‘You really don’t know? Jesus Christ.’

Jean shook her head and sighed, walking off to get herself more coffee.

‘Just tell me,’ said Matt, taking the seat opposite him.

Stick sighed, loudly. ‘It’s the war, Matty. It’s always the war.’

Matt was nodding along sarcastically before it fell into place in his head and knocked him off balance.

‘Elektra,’ he said, regaining control of his thoughts.

Stick swung on his chair. ‘That’s right.’

‘Get out,’ said Matt, standing up.

Stick didn’t move but did hold his cane a little firmer.

‘You know why she’s here?’

‘Fisk sent her to kill us,’ Matt said, visibly irritated.

‘That’s half of it. Killing you is part of her initiation into The Hand.’

Matt sat back down and faced Stick. He folded his arms. ‘There’s something you’re not telling me. Why did you come? To protect me? You don’t think I can handle her by myself?’ He scoffed at the last words.

‘With that leg? She’d slaughter you, kid.’

‘This happened last night,’ Matt said, wiggling his injured leg. ‘You wouldn’t have known about it when you decided to come here. So what’s the real reason? You’re avoiding it, so I’m going to guess it’s personal but you’re not related to her and it’s not revenge because you only care about yourself. So what is it?’

‘You still think you’re the smartest person in the room, don’t you, Matty. I’m here because _I_ trained her. She’s my student. My responsibility.’

Matt let the new information sink in before saying anything else.

‘I don’t need you here,’ he said, standing up again.

‘I gave that girl something to live for after her father died and she threw it in my face. I’m not leaving The Kitchen until I see her body in the ground.’

‘Get. Out.’

He picked up his batons.

Stick took Matt off-guard, striking without getting up from his chair, slapping the end of his cane against the back of Matt’s wounded leg, knocking him down to one knee.

‘When are you gonna grow up, kid? She’s here to kill you and your friends. She doesn’t care that you used to slip it to her after class.’

Matt lunged wildly, striking empty space. Stick was already at the door.

‘You’re the same as ever. Sentimental and stunted.’

‘GET OUT!’ Matt roared.

Stick let the door slam behind him, startling Foggy and Karen to life.

‘I’m going back to my apartment to pick up some stuff,’ Matt said, re-assembling his cane.

‘What’s going on?’ said Karen, fighting off a yawn.

‘Nothing,’ he said, pulling on his coat and heading for the door. ‘Just wait here, I’ll be back in an hour.’

‘I’ll wait, but I want what actually happened when you get back.’

Matt paused and swallowed his pride. ‘Yeah. I’ll be as quick as I can.’

Foggy just nodded, barely focusing his eyes.

Matt opened the door and headed home.

Jean took a sip from her coffee and waited for Karen to meet her gaze.

‘He’s not really blind, is he?’

Karen rubbed her forehead and sighed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's gonna be an unavoidable break soon because I'm moving to Cardiff.


	10. Chapter 10

The walk home was easier now that he'd taken some time to meditate although it would still take at least a week to get the full usage of his leg back. Not good enough for the situation they found themselves in. He'd been rescued four times in less than twenty-four hours. If anyone came for him now he'd practically be at their mercy.

Matt crossed the street, he was nearly there. The sun's heat had almost faded and Hell's Kitchen was beginning to come off-duty.

No one paid him much attention as he limped down the street. During the day was when he could feel it the most; people passing by, staring, glancing, pitying him. Sensing the emotions and intentions of those around him was one of the hardest things to describe. It was something he had avoided telling Foggy simply because he couldn't think of an accurate way to conceptualise it. The only person that might have been able to understand the sensation was Stick but Matt never felt anything resembling emotion from him. Stick had taught him how to weaponize every one of his enhanced senses as well as his physical capabilities. He helped Matt pick up on lies, smell diseases and suppress pain but he hadn't touched on how to deal with knowing that you're being lied to by your girlfriend, what to do when your best friend's in pain or how to console someone about their disease.

Matt lived each day fully aware when someone invented an excuse not to spend time with him, when someone tried to hide their attraction to him. He had feigned shock so many times at Foggy's birthday surprises. To someone else, Matt's abilities might have made him seem omniscient but, really, he was just processing information that they typically overlooked or ignored. He had known when Elektra was going to leave him, he knew about Foggy long before he came out of the closet and, now, he knew there was someone in his apartment.

Matt ascended the stairs slowly, taking his time, building a mental picture of the person in his room and ascertaining what exactly it was they were getting up to.

His apartment had been emptied top to bottom and the floors were littered, haphazardly, with his personal effects. Even the cutlery drawers had been pulled out and overturned. Whoever it was, they didn't seem to be in much of a rush. They moved slowly and methodically from one compartment to another, thoroughly examining it and its contents before moving on. Matt felt around his impression of his ransacked apartment, looking for his closet. It remained uninvaded but not for much longer. He hurried up the stairs as quickly as his leg would allow.

When the intruder reached Matt's closet, they opened it and lingered there. Beneath the clothes rack were a few old boxes. All of them had been emptied, inspected and tossed aside until the loose floorboards underneath them were revealed. Matt heard them sink their fingertips through the cracks in the floor. The foreign stench that permeated his apartment wafted into the hallway through door that had been recklessly left ajar. Without that toxic odour, Matt would have been able to smell them by now.

He pushed casually past the front door and gripped his cane tight, heading straight for the trespasser. When he stepped into the bedroom, Bullseye pulled a gun on him, Matt's helmet in his free hand.

'Sit down,' said Bullseye, without taking his eyes away from the mask.

Matt didn't move. He weighed up his options.

'You already have one broken leg, do you really want me to kneecap the other one? And drop the stick.'

Matt felt the devil boiling inside him. He sat on the edge of his bed and dropped his cane on the floor. Bullseye turned his attention back to the helmet.

'It's all starting to make sense now,' he said. 'This is why she warned me about you. This is why Sam Wilson's guarding your building. Oh, Mr. Murdock, I know you now.'

Bullseye was standing too far away for Matt to have any chance of reaching him before getting shot. He could try ducking, snatching up his cane, rolling towards him and snapping upwards to disarm him but only if he moved faster than Bullseye could aim. Matt remembered Castle's punctured badge, Sam's shattered goggles and the entire precinct of murdered cops and thought better of it.

'If you're going to shoot me just get on with it.'

Bullseye set down the helmet and scratched his tattoo. 'I'm not gonna kill you, just yet. No, I think you're worth more to me if you live a little longer. I imagine Fisk will be feeling a lot more generous once I give him that. Of course, he'll have to outbid The Bugle,' he said, chuckling.

Matt scoffed. 'Do you really think anyone's going to believe you? Where's your proof?'

'Right here,' said Bullseye, balancing Matt's helmet on the end of his CZ 75. 'Alas! Dear Murdock. I knew him!'

Matt grimaced to his core as Bullseye butchered the line. Some things really are worse than death, he thought to himself. He suppressed a grin and focused on his current emergency.

'There's nothing linking me to that helmet,' he said, calmly.

Bullseye's eye narrowed. 'I found it in your apartment.'

'Whose going to believe you? You work for Fisk, you're just trying to incriminate the lawyer that helped put him away.'

Bullseye dropped the helmet into a rucksack behind him. 'It's got your DNA all over it. Fingerprints too, I bet.'

'So? No court would even accept evidence supposedly obtained from a private domicile without a warrant or probable cause. How do they know that you didn't plant it to entrap me? It's inadmissible even if it did have my DNA on it, which it doesn't, because I wash my clothes.'

Bullseye took a step forward, the gun trained on Matt again. 'It doesn't have to hold up in court, shithead. Once the word gets out you'll be so hot it's only a matter of time 'til you get caught.'

'Right, but how are you going to "get the word out"? Shouting it on street corners? "Blind lawyer is dangerous vigilante!" I hope you're ready to get laughed at.'

'The Bugle,' reminded Bullseye.

Matt laughed loudly.

'If you think they're going to post a story like that about a lawyer without any admissible evidence then I don't know what to tell you other than: that's called libel.'

Matt could feel Bullseye's blood pressure rising and his fingers tightening around the handgun.

'If I tell them what I know they'll start investigating you,' Bullseye growled.

'And you think they'll find anything now that I know to be on my guard? Besides, they're not gonna pay you a cent for a tip-off. You might as well quit while you're ahead and just shoot me.'

Bullseye was pulsing with rage to the point where Matt was actually quite proud of himself. Then, the assassin froze, eventually thawing himself with a long exhale.

'No, I have a better idea. Here.' Bullseye tossed the helmet at him, mindful not to lower his gun. Matt caught it and waited; Bullseye was going to make a mistake. He took his eyes off Matt and twisted around to dig through the rucksack, looking for his phone. Bullseye aimed it, parallel to the gun and Matt heard the camera's shutters open.

'Smile.'

The moment had arrived. Matt took a sharp breath and woke his body up. He moved faster than ever, launching the helmet towards Bullseye and ducking to the floor, grabbing his cane. The helmet broke Bullseye's aim and a gunshot rang out. Matt felt a bullet plunge into his mattress, tearing through the length of it. He whipped around, getting on the outside of Bullseye's arm, preventing him from taking aim and smashing his left elbow into the back of the killer's head, knocking him forward. Taking hold of Bullseye's outstretched arm, he bent it around his back and twisted the wrist to its breaking point. Bullseye screamed and the gun clattered to the floor with a fully loaded thud. It was already over. Matt put his weight into it and slammed Bullseye down to his knees, forcing his face down onto the edge of the bed, holding him there. The assassin slumped down and went limp.

Matt checked he was still breathing and let go, allowing him to fall unconscious to the floor. He scooped up the gun. Suddenly, his bad leg quivered, delivering unanticipated pain through his knee, up his spine and into the back of his head. Too much, too soon. Stick was right, he wasn't ready for combat. It was only a second's hesitation but that was far too long when dealing with a rat.

Bullseye sprang to life, scrambling out of Matt's reach, heading for the door. Matt straightened up in an instant and instinct took over. He raised the gun, taking aim at Bullseye's presence, and nearly did it. He froze… and the assassin scarpered out the door.

Matt tossed the gun on the bed and rushed after him but he could already hear Bullseye's feet pounding against stone as he leapt down the stairwell. He would never catch him in his current state.

Had he taken the photo? Matt couldn't be sure and for all his talk earlier, he knew, evidence like that, would definitely turn some heads. Something would have to be done.

Matt picked up the weapon from the bed, purposefully, and went over to the window, opening it and leaning out. He waited for Bullseye to emerge from his building and step into his sights. He knew about Matt. He knew about Daredevil and soon, if Matt did nothing, Fisk would know too. Matt felt the killer step out into the night and aimed carefully.

He had the shot. Matt's leg shook incessantly. As if it were trying to rid itself of the pain. The air was cold. It had gotten late. There were beads of sweat on his palms. The wind brushed at his face. And Bullseye walked down the street, further and further away from what some would call a justified end. Matt was kidding himself, and he knew it. He hurled the gun on the floor and slammed the window shut.

He sank to the ground, sitting against the wall, breathing heavily.

'Foggy,' he breathed.

Matt dipped into his pocket and took out his phone, beginning a text to his partner.

We're always playing at a handicap, working one step behind them, chasing bad guys around with a net like children. How are we supposed to beat people that don't play by the rules? Does morality ever actually work in our favour? Or is it just there to hold us down while the immoral walk all over us.

Matt punched send with his thumb and cast his phone away. He sat there, sulking for a few more moments, before crawling back to his phone and sending another message.

I'm on my way back now.

* 

'You told her then?' said Matt.

Karen and Foggy exchanged guilty looks as they stood before their friend.

'Surely, we can trust Ben's sister-in-law? She's been a big help already, Matt,' said Foggy.

Matt couldn't think of anything to say that wouldn't come off as selfish. He set down his cane and allowed himself to slump onto the sofa whilst Foggy and Karen continued to stand, awkwardly, in the centre of the room.

'You've got to admit,' said Foggy, 'it makes sense for everyone on our side to be clued in to what, exactly, the situation is.'

'And this way, she doesn't have to feel betrayed and lied to,' added Karen, her arms crossed.

Foggy titled his head in agreement.

'You understand that the more people know, the more danger you might be putting yourself in,' said Matt, leaning forwards, his elbows on his knees, hands clasped in front of his mouth.

'We're in enough danger already. Besides, if you're really worried about putting us in danger,' said Karen, 'you could always stop being Daredevil. Now that Fisk's gone and the corruption in the police force's been checked out, there's no reason for Daredevil – you – to be doing their job.'

'There are always going to be times when the police can't, or won't, help someone that needs help,' said Matt. 'If Daredevil only helps five people when the cops couldn't, it's worth it.'

'It's not your responsibility to save the world!' said Foggy.

Matt snatched up his cane and stood up. 'Yes it is,' he said, 'we all have to do everything that we can to help this city. Otherwise, we deserve whatever we get.' He straightened his glasses and walked past them. 'Excuse me, I have to go explain myself to someone I barely know.'

He left Karen and Foggy standing in silence and walked over to the room from which he could hear Jean's heartbeat, knocking three times.

'Yeah?'

'Can I come in?'

He heard her get up and come over to open the door.

'Sure! I'd say make yourself at home but y'all accomplished that quick enough.'

Matt closed the door behind him and stood by it. He didn't intend to stay long.

'So, you know the truth about me,' he said, slowly turning his cane on its end. 'I'm sure you already understand how important it is to me that my identity stays relatively unknown and how much danger those close to me would be in if this secret got out.'

'Of course I understand. And, I'm not really interested in what your reasons are or what you think you might be achieving by doing this, or even what you want me to say, specifically, but I do have one question for you.'

Matt could feel the she was relatively calm and, from the tone of her voice, he gathered that she had already prepared herself for this conversation.

'You've done more than enough for us, Jean, to deserve all the answers you want,' he said.

In the moments silence after he spoke, he heard her heartrate pick up.

'Did you kill Ben?'

Matt's mouth hung open.

'Was that the price he paid for finding out about you, your secret?'

'I've never killed anyone,' he said, quietly. 'Ben might have had his suspicions about me but we never talked about it. I liked and respected your sister's husband. He gave everything he had to make this city a better place. I've tortured myself enough over his death, Jean. I would have defended him until my last breath.'

Matt could feel Jean looking him over. He stopped turning his cane and waited for her to speak. Her heartrate and returned to normal and she became as unreadable as ever, until she opened her mouth.

'Karen believes in Daredevil. If you get her killed too, I'll make sure you disappear.'

Her body language gave away no indication of a lie.

Matt skipped through a dozen responses before deciding it was better to say none of them. Jean was right. 'Thanks, again,' said Matt, turning around to leave.

He returned to the others. Foggy was making coffee whilst Karen was lying, curled up in the corner of the couch with her head on her hands.

'Jean's made me realize something,' he said, standing where they both could see him. 'I've been trying to be at mass and be in the procession too and I've taken a lot of choices away from you by keeping secrets. I can't stop being Daredevil any more than I can stop being Matt Murdock but, if you want, I can stop associating with you and take you out of harm's way.'

The two looked over at him and then at each other while they digested his words. Foggy absent-mindedly stirred his tea, his eyes focused on nothing. Matt didn't expect him to talk first.

'Why are you still walking around with that cane? It's part of your act, right? We know you don't need it.'

'Uhh, force of habit, I guess?' shrugged Matt, suddenly very aware of it in his hands.

Karen rolled her eyes.

'Even if we could get far enough away from you to make a difference, and wanted to, the damage is done. Anyone that knows you're Daredevil could come after us.'

Matt nodded solemnly.

'You were naïve to think you could do this without putting the people around you in danger.'

'Yep, I mean, look what happened to Claire,' said Foggy.

Matt winced and the smell of her clotted blood and tear-soaked skin came barrelling back to him.

'Leaving you wouldn't help us now, Matt. So I'll stay, if you're going to be honest with us from now on, that is.'

Foggy nodded. 'And I'm not going anywhere until you introduce me to Captain America, so…'

Matt smiled, weakly. He felt a lump growing in his throat. 'As much as I want to, what happened to Ben goes to show that I can't protect you. Both of you choosing to stay by my side means a lot to me, I'm sorry that you got dragged down with me and I love you both.'

Jean strolled past him and went to join Karen on the sofa.

'So, what's the verdict,' she said, scooping up Karen's hand in her own, 'are we forgiving him?'

'Looks that way,' said Karen, leaning her head on Jean's shoulder.

'Great,' she said, dryly, 'so who wants to start taking self-defence classes with me? They do Krav Maga just down the street, you know. I heard about it on Trish Talk.'

Karen raised her eyebrows and looked over at Foggy who shook his head, ardently.

'I could never do it,' he said, grabbing his stomach, 'I'd lose my signature pudge.'

No one in the room could stop their lips from breaking into a grin.

'Don't laugh, I'm serious,' Foggy continued, 'the cuddly bear look is sixty-five percent of my charm. Speaking of, is anyone else starving? I feel like I haven't eaten since April.'

'I don't really have any food in other than noodles and random vegetables-'

Foggy and Karen made faces at each other.

'So, maybe you should order take-out.'

'As much as I would absolutely love some noodle soup right now,' said Foggy, without even the slightest attempt at sounding genuine, 'since we're still being hunted by deadly assassins, as far as I know, it looks like take-out is our only option. Desi Deli, anyone?'

'Still destroyed, Foggy,' Matt reminded.

'Fuck,' he muttered. 'Well, whatever then. As long as it comes with a ton of spice and meat.'

'Sounds good to me,' said Jean.

Foggy's face lit up. 'Jean, how do you feel about butchers?'

'Don't answer that,' said Karen, 'I can't listen to this story one more time.'

Jean looked blankly between them before shaking her head and getting to her feet. 'I'll get the menus out.'

'Music to my ears,' said Foggy, sitting down at the dining table, steam rising from his coffee.

'This is good,' said Karen, 'we can all sit around and work out a plan of action and,' she turned to address Matt, 'you can get us up to speed on everything we've missed.'

Matt thought about Bullseye's visit. 'Yeah, I will.'

* 

Lantom stepped inside the booth and set down his latte. When he first started, Lantom tried not to recognise anyone. He tried to pretend that he was God and every man that walked into the booth was Adam and every woman, Eve. He'd examine the scuff marks on his shoes or the fluff on his robes and try to discern where he had obtained them – anything to distract from the identity of the penitent. It only really worked for newcomers and the kind of people that turned up once, unloaded all of their guilt and never returned again. Lantom used to joke that priests were like glorified toilets because, every day, some stranger would come in and dump their shit on them.

He started coming towards the end of Lantom's second year. Hard to ignore and impossible to forget, he'd turn up every two weeks or so, smelling of rancid cologne with pockets full of loose change. Lantom knew him every time he walked through the door. Those years were the hardest. He was coming up to fifty, divorced, one kid, great job, receding hairline, very shiny shoes. Every time he came he confessed the same sin: envy. Lantom couldn't help still feeling a little sick when he thought about it.

The first time he confessed, his son had just turned seventeen. They'd thrown him a party, no expense spared, every guest had to know how lavishly they lived. At that age his son was already half a foot taller than him with all of his mother's best features; warm, brown eyes and thick, light hair. Throughout his son's childhood he'd joked, bragged and boasted what a heartbreaker he would grow up to be but, according to his confession, something changed at that party. Of course, they all loved him, the boys and girls, hanging off of him, melting under his youthful grin, eyes stuck to his every movement. How vapid and shallow and stupid they all were. How superficial, how immature, how blind, how idiotic!

"There's no such thing as justice in this world," he'd say. Women only liked him for his money, he'd say.

"They're vultures. No, they're magpies. They're like a mixture of vultures and magpies, selfish and cruel."

And it just got worse from there.

"I don't know how it happened, Father, it was like I couldn't control myself" he bawled through the grate.

Lantom remembered the long, creeping feeling that just grew and grew with each confession. If you've ever seen a toddler step out in front of a car, you know the feeling.

His son had brought a girl home for the very first time. "I said it was okay, that she could stay the night. I made some kind of joke, you know, wink-wink, nudge-nudge, 'don't tell your mother', you know… Oh God, I don't know why I did it."

Lantom's frown had set hard into his face. 'Whatever you've done, if you have remorse in your heart, He will find it in himself to forgive you. What happened?'

'It was late. I hadn't really been drinking. I was practically already asleep when I heard them.'

Lantom didn't have to ask.

'I think, maybe, at first, I just wanted to be sure I'd heard what I heard? Or maybe that's just what I want to believe.'

He would always take a long pause before reaching the end of his confessions. That's when Lantom would feel the most claustrophobic in his booth. Somewhere, in the depths of his mind, he recognised that the long pause was his last chance to get out, to wash his hands of it all.

'Afterwards… I'd never felt so ashamed of myself. I know it's wrong. It makes me feel disgusting. But at the same, part of me wants to do it again. Part of me can't wait to do it again. Listening to them, jerking off, knowing that what I was doing was wrong, it all just… overpowered me.'

The session ended like any other and two months later he was back; he'd installed cameras in their room.

'I haven't watched them – only listened.'

For the first time, Lantom didn't know what to say. He wasn't there looking for forgiveness, he just wanted someone to listen and tell him that it wasn't too late, that he hadn't yet crossed the line, that he might still get away with it down the line "if he had remorse in his heart".

Lantom felt empty.

'Uh… Father?'

Whatever he said, he'd long forgotten. Empty words, without meaning or value.

That's how it went for just over a year, the rattle of loose change bouncing off the pews, his cologne lingering in the air hours after he'd left, another step too far each time. When the visits stopped, Lantom didn't have to wonder why; he read the answer in the Bulletin, squeezed into a little rectangle on the corner of the front page. The next day, he confessed his relief upon reading the news, as he would no longer have to deal with him.

This all came barrelling back to Lantom when he closed the door of the booth behind him and caught the scent of that same cologne.

'I'm a sinner, Father.'

'We're all sinners, my son. What have you done?'

Lantom could tell two things from the man's voice. Firstly, and obviously, despite sharing the same cologne, this was not the now-imprisoned dad and secondly, just like before, he wasn't seeking forgiveness.

'I kill people for money.'

Lantom peered through the grate from the corner of his eye.

'Do you like what you do?'

'Oh, you know, I did at first. I remember how exciting it was when I first started. Back then, every target seemed different. There used to be an element of challenge to the job. Now it's just jetlag and trigger pulling.'

'Maybe it's time for a change? I know they're looking for a new pastor over in Queens. I could put in a good word for you, if you want.'

Bullseye chuckled.

'You might find the boredom is God's way of leading you away from such a life,' he added.

'If God wants me to stop killing people he should have made it pay less,' he said, before leaning into the grate, 'you don't seem very concerned. Do you talk to a lot of killers?'

'Everyone that comes here has a guilty conscience, something they don't want to be judged for; a man cheating on his husband, a boy fantasizing about his sister, a woman that hates her parents. No one comes here to confess matters of innocence and I've been here for a long, long time so, yes, there's been plenty of killers.'

'I see, so how do you handle the guilt, Father? I don't see many choir boys around.'

'Confession. Just like everyone else.'

'Okay, but, say you're not allowed to repeat anything I tell you right?'

'That's right.'

'So, I could say that I just diddled the Pope's wife and you'd have to keep quiet.'

'The most I can do is encourage you to make amends.'

'So, how do you deal with that guilt? Knowing about something horrible, having the power to make a difference and not doing a thing to stop it? The poor guy's being taken for a ride whilst Mrs Pope bangs her way around the Buckingham Palace.'

'I'm not here to change things. I'm here for you to listen to your confession and to grant the lord's forgiveness. The knowledge and power that are responsibilities that have been bestowed upon me. I can't use them to interfere with God's plan.'

'What if God's plan is for you to interfere?'

'I have faith in the course of action that I've chosen and I believe that, if I am ever meant to deviate from that course, that He will let me know, one way or another.'

Bullseye's voice took on a sharp tone.

'So, you're basically just here to make your followers feel better about eating their neighbours' pets?'

'If someone has realized their sins, wants forgiveness and wants to change, then they have a place, here, to come seeking redemption.'

'Is everyone redeemable, in your eyes, Father?'

Lantom actually took a moment to consider it. Of course, he had thought it over before, and it was a question he had been asked countless times, but he thought it through once more out of courtesy and diligence.

'Yes.'

'Even Donald Trump?'

'Yes.'

Thoughts of better things he could be spending his time on crept out from the back of Lantom's mind.

'So, I could kill your mum, right in front of you, and rape her corpse and you'd forgive me.'

Lantom's voice was as dry as baked slate.

'God would forgive you.'

'Would you confront me if I confessed to you that I was abusing your mother every night?'

His patience was starting to diminish. Not many people had the audacity to push their argument so far.

'If you weren't going to stop and you weren't looking for forgiveness, then I would confront you but not as a man of God.'

Bullseye nodded.

'I'm not God,' said Lantom, 'just his voice.'

'And you still wouldn't tell anyone?'

Lantom stared through the grate at the shadowed killer.

'No, I wouldn't. Now, are you seeking forgiveness?'

'No, Father.'

'Then why are you here?'

'To cause a scene.'

Lantom's eyes narrowed.

'We're the only ones here,' he said, still peering through at the man. Bullseye wasn't looking at him anymore, instead, he was fiddling with something in his hands, something out of Lantom's sight.

'Well, us and God,' Bullseye corrected. 'Besides, first I need a volunteer.'

Something hard and metal tapped heavily on the grate.

'Out,' said Bullseye.

Lantom sighed under his breath and slowly gout out of his side of the booth, leaving his lukewarm latte behind. Bullseye stepped out after him, a gun in his hand, aimed squarely at the back of Lantom's head.

'What do you want from me?' said Lantom, peeking over his shoulder to get a better look at the assassin.

'Just call the Bugle and tell them what's going on.'

'What is going on?'

Bullseye groaned. 'Tell them you're being held hostage by the cop killer.'

'Are you the cop killer?'

'Yes,' he snapped.

'Oh, good.'

'What?!'

'Well, I'm not a cop.'

Bullseye opened and closed his mouth a few times, like a goldfish, before shaking his head.

'Just tell them.'

'Okay.'

They stood in silence for a moment, looking at each other expectantly.

'What exactly are you waiting for? Oh no, don't tell me, you don't have a-'

'I don't have a phone.'

'It's twenty-fifteen!'

Lantom shrugged.

Bullseye dug around in his pocket and tossed a phone into Lantom's hands. 'I assume you know how to use a cellular telephone, father?'

'I'm Catholic, not Amish.'

'Greeeaaat,' said Bulleye, 'now call the Bugle and tell them that I have you hostage here.' He chuckled to himself and added, 'and tell them that the price to keep you alive is fifty million.'

Lantom raised his eyebrows. 'Okay, that sounds fake but okay.'

'Just do it!'

'Alright, alright, I'll do it. Although, I think they'd prefer to speak to you.'

Bullseye stepped forward and nudged the back of Lantom's head with the muzzle of his gun. Lantom flinched away from the cold metal and put the phone to his ear.

'It's ringing,' he said.

It wasn't long after Bullseye made him hang up that sirens surrounded them. Lantom stood waiting like a loyal pawn whilst Bullseye made himself comfortable, feet up on the pew in front of him, arms stretched across the back, gun pointing lazily at the ground. Nothing had passed between them since Bullseye sat down allowing silence to swell and dominate the hall. Time may as well have stopped until, still in his hand, Lantom felt the phone ring, vibrating desperately. He looked toward Bullseye for instruction. Bullseye sighed and sat up straight.

'Give it here,' he said.

Lantom walked over and passed it to him, obediently, footsteps echoing. Bullseye put the phone to his ear and spoke.

'Hello?'

A tentative voice dripped through the line. 'Am I speaking to the hostage?'

'No, this is the deranged killer. Can I take a message?'

The voice hesitated a little too long.

'Oh, no, erm, good. How are you feeling today?'

'Extra deranged. Yourself?'

'I'm… fine, thank you. My name's Jonathon. I'm going to do my best to help you get what you want today. What should I call you?'

'B is fine.'

'Alright. Is that short for anything?'

'Yeah, it's short for bored. Where's my fifty million?'

'I'm working it out now with my colleagues.'

Lantom examined the killer carefully, he was fidgeting about on the pew, trying to get comfortable, throwing his legs and feet over every angle of furniture available, twirling the gun around in his free hand.

'Forgot about the money, I'm coming out. Tell the crew to make sure they catch me blowing this guy's head off on camera.' Bullseye tossed the phone into the air and, with a single bullet, shattered it.

'Wait, fuck, I thought that was yours,' he said, laughing and turning around to meet Lantom's eyes. 'Oh well, it's go time. Come on.'

Bullseye stood up from the pew with an exaggerated groan and walked over to Lantom, jabbing him in the back with the end of the gun.

'We're going outside. I'm turning myself in.'

Lantom said nothing, doing only as he was commanded. Together, they walked out to face the arena of flashing lights and sirens.

Bullseye waited until they were in full view of the crowd before giving his next instruction.

'Stop here,' he said, 'convince me not to do this.'

Lantom frowned and he glanced over his shoulder at Bullseye.

'I'm sure you know that suicide is a sin. Right now, the only way to prevent yourself from spending eternity in hell is to surrender yourself to the police and find your way back to the path of redemption. Is that what you want to hear?'

'Yes, Father. Excellent, thank you.' Bullseye threw his hands into the air. 'I'M SORRY!' He let his gun clatter to the ground. 'You can go now,' he added, murmuring into Lantom's ear.

Lantom ambled away, heading for the ring of cop cars and ambulances whilst officers rushed past him with their weapons aimed at the assassin.

'Are you alright, Father?'

Lantom snapped around to find the voice. A tall officer with lines through his forehead, bags under his eyes and grey streaks in his hair approached him, a hand outstretched. Lantom closed the distance between them and shook it, noticing the single star on his uniform.

'It's about time,' said Lantom, nodding at the eagle medallion.

The deputy followed his gaze and laughed. 'Yeah, well the pool to choose from keeps on getting smaller and smaller these days. Two more alien invasions and I'll be the one giving out promotions.'

They laughed together and let their hands fall away, ignoring Bullseye as he was stuffed into the back of a cruiser.

'We're gonna need to take a quick statement before we let you go. Would you like to see the paramedics first?'

Lantom shook his head. 'No, I'm fine. No harm done.' Lantom thought about the latte he never got to start.

'Alright, we can take my car.'

He led Lantom over to his cruiser and opened the door for him.

'How's Gwen?' Lantom asked, clipping in his seatbelt.

'She's good, very good, almost top of her class. She just got the Osborn Scholarship for, uh, chemistry. Or was it biology?'

Lantom smiled softly. 'Doing well for herself then.'

Deputy Stacy started up the car. 'Anything to keep her away from boys a little longer,' he chuckled. 'Do you ever wish you'd had kids, Father?'

'Not at all. I do enough parenting as it is. Besides, it's never too late.'

'I guess times like this make you wonder whether you're in the right line of work. Although, you don't seem too rattled. What happened in there, exactly?'

Lantom began recounting the situation to Stacy, glancing around at the dissipating crowd at every pause.

'He wanted this to happen, right from the start, this was his plan,' he finished, finally meeting the deputy's gaze.

'From what you've told me, about his behaviour, I'm going to have to agree with you, Lawrence. I'll have him put in Riker's, post-haste. They're more than equipped to handle his sort over there.'

They watched as Bullseye was driven away, flanked by a squad car on every side. The feeling in Lantom's stomach didn't go away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ohhhh boy am I sorry about the wait. Good news though, the move went well and I've settled in at Cardiff had my first day of new job today and it went really well. I'm really, really, going to try and get this finished before the new season comes out in 19 days. Thanks to everyone that's stuck with this terribly scheduled fic and I hope the ending doesn't disappoint you.
> 
> Oh, also, this is the release schedule for the last four chapters:
> 
> Chapter 11 - March 3rd  
> Chapter 12 - March 8th  
> Chapter 13 - March 13th   
> Chapter 14 - March 16th


	11. Chapter 11

The door slid shut effortlessly behind him despite being several inches of reinforced steel. Bullseye looked around his cell. There wasn't much to see; a small, seatless toilet, a cheap scraggly bed and a box-shaped wash basin.

'The bogroll's a nice touch,' he admitted.

He ran a hand over the wall, feeling the worn paint give way to coarse concrete and… something else – like a rat between the bricks. He listened carefully, and swept the room over with his eyes until he found it. Bullseye put an ear to the wall to confirm it. Something was scuttling around in there.

The wall gave way with a final expulsion of dust and Bullseye felt the tip of a drill being driven into the side of his head.

'Jesus Fuck!' he yelped, jumping backwards, a hand over the wound, eyes searching for the break. Where he had been listening, there was nothing to see save for a fresh hole, the size of a pencil. Bullseye looked at it furiously.

'I wish this was the weirdest thing that had happened to me today,' he growled.

'I'd quite like to hear about your week, Lester.'

The voice emanated from the fresh tunnel with unnerving clarity. The shock spread down to his core, chilling the blood in his veins.

'Boss?'

'You know,' said Fisk, 'you came very highly recommended but so far, every assignment I've set you has returned disappointing results. You  _and_ Ms. Natchios are testing my patience.'

Bullseye crouched down to the hole, eyeing it cautiously. 'I understand that boss but I came here deliberately because I had to get some information to you and my current situation wouldn't allow me to drop by during visiting hours, you get me?'

'Get to the information.'

'I know who Daredevil is.' A wide grin spread across Bullseye's face. 'Are you sitting down?'

Fisk's tone embodied a singular purpose.

'Who?'

'The blind lawyer. The very same one that's defending Hoffman – Matthew Murdock.'

The voice suddenly sounded further away.

'I had Hoffman killed yesterday. As soon as I heard how public your pursuit of Murdock had become, I took pre-emptive measures in the event of your capture.'

'Wow, ye of little faith. Wait, you mean you dug that little hole in a day?'

'Tell me what you know!'

Bullseye sighed and rolled his eyes, sliding down to sit on the cold floor.

'I broke into his apartment to wait for him to come back, he was gone a long time so I had a nose around and I found the suit. Then, when he eventually came back, he basically admitted it and dropped the blind act completely.'

'Very clever,' muttered Fisk. 'Did you kill him?'

'Well, no, I thought maybe you'd want to have all the information first before acting, just in case you wanted to do something different.'

There was silence on the other side of the hole.

'Well done, Lester. This changes things.'

'Yeah? Should I call the Bugle?'

'That won't be necessary, Lester. We're going to tell the police.'

 

*

 

Foggy stepped out of the bathroom, a towel wrapped firmly around his waist, his wet, uncombed hair dripping onto his shoulders.

'Matt!' he yelled, 'Matt, wake up your phone's ringing.'

'Tell them I'm in a meeting,' he grumbled. Jean had been kind enough to set down a blow-up bed for him but most of the air had escaped during the night and now his face was plastered firmly to the floor.

'Oh, it's Claire. Should I still tell her you're in a meeting?'

Matt sat up immediately and held out his hand for the phone. Foggy tossed it to him and walked away, sniggering under his breath. Matt pushed answer and pressed the phone to his ear.

'Claire?'

'No, this is Peter Parker.'

Matt shook his head and rubbed his eyes.

'Right, what's going on? What's up?'

'Wake up! This is important.'

Matt considered throwing the phone across the room.

'Are you listening?' asked Peter.

'Yeah, what is it?'

'I'm doing some work experience at The Daily Bugle and I just heard Eddie Brock say he's headed over to your place ASAP. Also, something about a raid.'

_That idiot actually did it._

'Thanks for the heads-up, Peter. I owe you one.'

'No, now we're even. I gotta go, good luck.'

The line went dead. Matt was already pulling on his clothes.

'Foggy!' he cried, gathering up his socks and shoes.

'What?! What?!' said Foggy, running back out from the bathroom, clutching his towel in place.

'That guy went to the papers about me. I think the police are at my place. I need you to hide the suit here. Ask Jean if she's got a safe or something.'

He was pulling on his shoes when the bedroom door opened and Karen stepped out, still half-asleep.

'Matt, what's going on?'

'I can't explain right now,' he said, pulling on his shoes. 'I have to go and you two have to stay here until I'm back. Please!'

'Matt, you said you'd keep us in the loop from now on!' said Karen, suddenly wide awake.

'Foggy can fill you in, I can't wait. Please, Foggy, hide my suit and don't go outside. I'll be back as soon as I can. Be safe. I've got to go.'

Karen drew breath and opened her mouth but gave up immediately. Foggy put a hand on her shoulder and pursed his lips.

Matt was out the door when he heard her finally speak up.

'He's never going to change, is he?'

'Let's talk about it when I'm not dripping wet and naked,' said Foggy.

Matt rushed down the hall and jumped the stairs three at a time. When he got outside, he had to be more subtle. He took the first empty cab he found and gave the driver his address. When they reached his building, he tossed some notes onto the dashboard and hurried inside. There was too much activity to make out anything specific but Matt could tell, there were far more people on his floor than usual.

He slid back into character, holding his cane tightly, and took the elevator to his floor. Surrounded by the clicking and whir of machinery, Matt could feel his own liver and spleen being pummelled by his hammering heartbeat.

The elevator doors opened, putting him face to face with an officer that, upon recognizing him, immediately dropped a hand to his holster.

'Mr. Murdock, my name is Detective Ray Peters…'

Matt snapped to attention, something about this man stood out to him. The voice grated on his memory like a something drowning under a sheet of ice, fighting ferociously to break free.

'What's going on?' asked Matt, roughly.

'We're conducting a search of your residence in response to testimony that you're the vigilante known as Daredevil.'

He followed as Matt walked into his apartment.

'Daredevil? I'm blind. Where's your warrant?' he said, paused on the threshold, surveying the team of inspectors searching through the mess Bullseye had left behind.

'We don't have a warrant but we did have probable cause. There's a bullet hole in your window.'

Matt turned to him with venom in his tone. 'Probable cause has to be readily apparent. I live on the eighth floor, detective, did you boys spot it birdwatching on your lunch break?'

'They're called eyes, Murdock, get some!'

He recognized that voice easily: The Daily Bugle's Eddie Brock.

'Why don't we trade, Eddie? Give me your eyes and I'll give you some integrity. Win-win.'

Someone, in another room, chuckled under their breath.

'Mr. Murdock,' said Peters, 'when we arrived, judging by the state of the residence, it appears you've been the victim of a burglary. Is that correct?'

Matt struggled to think.

'I don't know. I was out last night.'

'You know, according to eye witnesses, you were present at the station shooting yesterday. Is that true?'

'Yes it is. I'm often there because  _I'm a lawyer_.'

'Did you see the assailant?'

Matt leaned towards the detective, shortening the space between their faces down to a few inches. 'No,' he said, shaking his head slowly.

'Of course. I'm sorry. What about the people you were with, did they see him?'

Matt sighed. 'I think so but I'd have to ask.'

'We'd like to speak to them,' said the detective.

'Why?'

The detective took on an impatient tone. 'We believe we have the suspect in custody. They've confessed but we'd like someone to confirm that we haven't just picked up some crazy. If you wouldn't mind giving us their names?'

'Karen Page and Franklin Nelson.'

'Do you know where we might find them?'

'No.'

'When was the last time you saw them?'

'Last night, we were working late at Franklin's apartment. That's where I've just come from.'

The detective's eyes lingered on him but Matt felt sure of the lie's security.

'Is there anything else I can help you with, detective?'

'Well you're going to have to come down to the station so we can get an official explanation for all this down on paper and then we might have to─'

'Where did the tip come from?' asked Matt.

'Actually, it's tips,' said the detective. 'Several people in custody, right now, swear that you're Daredevil.'

'Does that not seem a bit too coincidental or convenient to you?' laughed Matt. 'I bet these are all criminals that went down along with Fisk, aren't they.'

'In the interest of their safety, I can't tell you their names, but I can tell you that they're not all criminals that went down with Fisk.'

Matt suddenly became very aware of his cane.

'Some of them have even asserted that you're not blind at all, Mr. Murdock, and due to the suspicious state of your residence and the bullet hole in your window, which has clearly been tampered with from the inside, I think it's best if I don't dismiss their claims out of hand. Now,' the detective pulled out a set of cold, metal cuffs, 'let's do this the easy way.'

_Shit._

 

_*_

 

'Okay, will do, buddy. See you soon.' Foggy hung up and slipped the phone back into his jacket. Karen and Jean were watching him interestedly.

'Soooooo… Matt's been arrested and we've been asked to go to the station and identify Bullseye.'

Karen's mouth hung open wordlessly.

'Uhh, what?' said Jean.

'Apparently someone in prison accused Matt of being Daredevil so they've taken him in for questioning and also they want to talk to Karen and I about Bullseye.'

'Right, right. And what's Bullseye?' asked Jean.

'The guy that killed a station full of officers just to get to us. They think they have him in custody.'

'Well, obviously, you can't go,' said Jean.

'Excuse me?' said Karen, looking at her with wide eyes.

Jean took hold of her hand and squeezed it, gently.

'You've still got at least one assassin out there trying to find you. For all we know, this Bullseye could have turned himself in deliberately in order to bait you out of hiding.'

'Do you have a better idea?' snapped Karen.

'Well, maybe we should just, you know, wait and see? Keep an eye on the news, see what comes up, wait until the coast is clear.' Jean looked around for the remote and switched on the news.

Karen crossed her arms, shrugged and sank a little further into her end of the sofa. Foggy puffed out his cheeks and made a loud humming noise.

'Well we're gonna have to go down to Riker's at some point,' said Foggy, 'or they're going to get very suspicious. Oh, Jean, Matt said that Eddie Brock was at his apartment, check if he's on.'

Jean tossed him the remote without looking.

Foggy scrambled to catch it, rolling his eyes at her. He flicked through the channels until Brock's face appeared and his expression soured, causing Karen and Jean to turn and face the screen.

The volume was too low to make out what Brock was saying but the headline stood out in bold at the bottom of the screen.

_**MATT MURDOCK: ATTORNEY OUTLAW** _

Foggy fumbled for the volume setting.

'…police are saying that several inmates in Riker's prison, many of whom are believed to have never had any prior contact with each other, have accused the attorney of being the masked vigilante known as Daredevil, with some claiming that the reason they didn't come forward sooner is through fear that no one would take their accusations seriously due to Mr. Murdock's supposed disability.'

'He has an incredibly punchable face,' said Jean, coldly.

Karen snuggled up to her a bit more.

'Now, over at the Bugle, we did a little bit of our own investigation into Mr. Murdock and his business partners and we can actually reveal that he, and his partner, Franky Nelson, were allegedly fired from Landman and Zach over accusations of gross misconduct, specifically regarding clients!'

'What the  _fuck?!'_ said Foggy.

'Come on, Foggy, you know what he's like. No one takes Brock seriously anyway,' said Karen.

Foggy relaxed a little but his face had set into a hard scowl and he muttered something under his breath that Karen shook her head at. Brock continued on.

'Not just that, but their only employee, Karen Page, was in police custody facing charges of first degree murder until, that very same day, all charges were conveniently dropped and she began working for Mr. Murdock and Mr. Nelson. Now, viewers, if that seems suspicious to you, you're not alone but let me tell you something else, it gets worse.'

'Foggy,' said Karen, 'give me the remote.'

'Here you go,' he said, flinging it onto the couch beside her.

Karen seized it and switched the TV off, pulling out the batteries and throwing them down behind the sofa. Foggy looked at her incredulously.

'What are you doing?' he cried.

'He annoys me,' she said, avoiding his eyes.

Jean looked her lover over, clearly trying to answer an unspoken question but Karen gave her nothing. Getting up, Jean walked over to the set and turned it back on, sitting at the table away from Karen.

Karen glowered at her and Foggy could see that she was squeezing her fists into a ball so fiercely that her knuckles and fingertips had gone white. Brock flashed back onto the screen.

'Viewers, I want you to think back to 2010, when Vermont witnessed its most horrific series of killings, ever. Fifteen, young, beautiful, innocent women were slain by the madman popularly known as The Death's Head Killer, known as such for his tendency to flay the skulls of his victims, rendering them to the point that they could only be identified by their dental records.'

Brock paused for effect. Foggy felt like he had never experienced such a pure silence before like Hell's Kitchen itself was holding its breath.

'Now, you probably remember, that the killer was eventually caught in mid-2014 and identified as Doctor Paxton Cruz but, the detectives assigned to the case firmly insisted that to carry out many of the abductions and the killings themselves, Cruz must have had an accomplice. I hope you're still with me, viewers, as this, this is where it gets very interesting.'

Karen was visibly shaking now and, every time Brock paused, Jean took the opportunity to examine her. Foggy, however, remained glued to the screen, his face an unreadable mishmash of emotions. Karen's breathing was getting heavier.

'This accomplice was never found. What was also never found, viewers, was the body of Cruz's daughter, Paige, and, despite confessing to her murder, Cruz never told detectives where to find her body. Even more suspiciously, his accounts of her murder changed frequently, with varying dates, locations and motive. This means, viewers, that the daughter of The Death's Head, has never been found, dead or alive.'

Foggy felt nausea pooling in his stomach and Jean had turned impossibly still.

'The information I'm about to share with you, viewers, has never before been released to the public. If you've stuck with me through all this, I can assure you, I am about to arrive at the point.'

Brock stretched his neck out and took a deep breath.

'In August 2014, a credit card belonging to one of the victim's was used to pay for a one-way bus ticket from Burlington, Vermont to New York City. When interviewed, the driver of the bus described the mystery passenger as a woman in her late twenties with short, dark hair, brown eyes and very pale. That's where the trail goes cold, viewers. Until you see that Karen Page appeared in Hell's Kitchen around September 2014. I use the word appeared here because it is the most accurate word to describe someone who had no previous address, gave no references, paid her rent one year upfront  _in cash_ and was described by neighbours as very pale, with red, puffy eyes and a hasty dye job. Mere months after she appears, she's arrested on suspicion of murder. Now, can we say for certain that Karen Page is in fact Paige Cruz, daughter and accomplice of the Death's Head serial killer? Of course we can't. But one thing is for sure, she, and Mr. Murdock have a lot of explaining to do.'

Foggy and Jean's gazes were fixed on Karen and she tried to pretend she couldn't tell. After an eternity, Brock's segment finally ended.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My internet currently only works between 10am and 2pm. Go figure. On the plus side, I finished writing this story and all that's left to do is upload it.


	12. Chapter 12

And then, nothing but silence. Long, choking silence.

Foggy couldn’t say anything. He couldn’t ask. He couldn’t speak at all.

Jean opened her mouth first but Karen cut her off.

‘It’s true,’ she whimpered, still shaking. ‘I helped him do it.’ She was failing to fight off tears and her voice started to shake. ‘I didn’t want to do it. I didn’t want to. He made me.’

Foggy’s eyes had cracked open and his mouth flapped uselessly.

‘Karen,’ said Jean, ‘tell me everything.’

‘At first, I didn’t know,’ she said, speaking through sobs, ‘there were four girls before I realized it was him.’ She shook harder than before and seemed to struggle with breathing. Foggy started to doubt that she would compose herself until Jean spoke again.

‘Karen, whatever you say, I’ll believe you.’

Jean moved over from the dining table back to the sofa, sitting down next to Karen. She took her hand and looked into her eyes. They waited and gave her more time and soon Karen spoke again.

‘After I found out, he locked me down there with the bodies. I don’t know how long he left me down there with them but when he came back, he brought another girl.’

She was forcing herself to breath slowly.

‘He made me feed her and wash her. Let her use the bucket and clean up after her. And then he brought another one. And another one. And he took me upstairs and said “Be a good girl, Paige. Be a good girl, or they die.” He told me their names. He told me who they were. Showed me pictures of their families. And when one of them, Courtney, asked me to help them escape, he hung her upside down and starved her to death. The next day, there was another girl.’

Karen had calmed down now and recounted the horror story monotonously. Jean, despite her steely expression, kept hold of Karen’s hand.

‘I’m not going to let them take you,’ said Jean.

As if on cue, the front door to the apartment burst open and a tall, Amazonian woman walked in, a sly smile on her face.

‘Uh oh,’ said Elektra, ‘All alone?’

Karen stood up immediately, a storm on her face and fire in her eyes, but Jean pulled her back down to the sofa and gave her a stern look.

‘What do you want, Elektra?’ said Foggy.

Elektra ignored him and focused, instead, on Karen.

‘Fisk, he makes many plans. You are lucky that he leaves you alone now.’

She unsheathed her sais and stood up straight.

‘But unlucky because you know who I am.’

‘Matt’s on his way here right now,’ said Foggy, edging away from her.

‘You are a very bad liar, Mr. Nelson. And I thought you were lawyer. Matthew is never coming back for you.’

She approached him slowly, still cautious and careful despite the obvious advantage she had over him. Foggy back away, quicker now, but then another voice came from the doorway that stopped them both in their tracks.

‘Do you really expect anyone to fall for that pathetic disguise?’

Stick walked listlessly into Jean’s apartment, swinging his cane at his side.

‘Congratulations,’ he continued, his drawling voice completely upending the tension in the room, ‘you’ve come up with a disguise that makes you stick out like a snowflake in July.’

Stick scoffed at his own joke.

Karen, Jean and Foggy seemed to vanish completely from Elektra’s mind as she turned to face Stick. Her expression had changed from smug and eager to something that outmatched even Karen’s fury.

‘You know,’ began Elektra, dropping her broken English and Greek accent entirely, ‘you’ve always been predictable.’

They were already circling each other.

‘You’re a stereotype, old man. A parody of wisdom. A sad, washed-up groupie that’s never picked a fight with someone bigger than you.’

Stick didn’t bother to respond, just kept on circling; waiting for it to start.

‘Do you really think you’re a man?’ she continued, her voice growing louder despite the distance between them rapidly shrinking. ‘You’re like an old spinster that won’t stop breastfeeding her kids. You know, he might be blind but he’s nothing like you.’

Stick yawned and scratched his chin.

‘Predictable,’ he said, separating his cane into twin batons, ‘I’ve been waiting for you to turn up here all week. Matty must have loved your mouth because he obviously didn’t stay for your brains.’ Stick paused and looked over in Karen’s general direction. ‘Are you gonna sit there all day or are you gonna get outta here?’

Foggy slipped out of the way of the two killers, rejoining Karen and Jean.

Elektra had had enough. She abandoned the circle, leading with her left sai, the tip of it thrusting for Stick’s neck. Their steel dance had begun.

‘Let’s go!’ pressured Foggy, pulling Karen and Jean up from their seats. Jean snatched her hand away.

‘I’m not leaving them here to destroy my entire apartment!’ she snapped as Elektra kicked a chair at Stick which he promptly turned into kindling.

‘No, we really have to get out of here,’ said Karen, meeting her paramour’s eyes to emphasize the urgency.

Jean surrendered and let them lead her out of her home whilst Elektra fought desperately to get through Stick and finish them off. He was holding her back, not relaxed, but still calm and focused.

‘There’s nowhere for us to go,’ said Karen as they rushed away down the corridor. Behind them, they heard a loud crash that was either the living room window or Jean’s glass coffee table.

‘Keep walking, keep walking, keep walking,’ said Foggy, leading the way, nervously.

‘Foggy,’ said Karen, ‘I can’t go to the police, I can’t go to Matt, I can’t go home, I can’t go anywhere!’

Foggy had strands of hair plastered to his forehead and was focusing strictly on the elevator at the end of the hall.

‘I know somewhere we can go,’ said Jean, ‘but you’re not gonna like it.’

‘I don’t have any other choice,’ she said. ‘I’m sorry, Foggy, but you’re gonna have to get Matt out on your own.’

‘Right. Any idea how?’ he asked, hammering on the elevator’s call button.

‘You’re both lawyers!’ shouted Jean, as they bustled into the tiny, metal closet.

‘SHIT!’ said Foggy, so suddenly that Karen jumped a foot away from him.

‘WHAT?!’ she yelled back.

‘Matt’s suit’s still in there,’ he said, knocking his head against the elevator doors.

‘I’m sure he can knit himself another,’ said Jean, impatiently.

Karen put a hand on Foggy’s shoulder as he continued to knock his head against the metal.

They descended the rest of the way without speaking

 

*

 

He’d been sitting alone in the interrogation room, twiddling his thumbs for the better part of twenty minutes. The majority of precincts keep the rooms that they use for questioning suspects stuffy and overheated deliberately so that the suspect starts to feel overwhelming uncomfortable. Although Matt had almost absolute controlled over his sense of temperature, knowing that they did it deliberately still managed to piss him off.

Detective Peters had started by asking him a handful of routine, wishy-washy questions, and even went out of his way to bring up the night Matt’s father was murdered – apparently he thought it was worth mentioning that he had been the first responding officer at the scene. Matt couldn’t imagine a more obliviously appalling way to try and establish a connection with someone. After boring him half to death, Peters went to “get a cup of coffee” and Matt had been trying to unravel Fisk’s plan ever since.

He placed one hand, palm down on the desk in front of him and pretended to write out his thoughts in braille by dotting a finger on the back of his hand. 

_First off, Fisk wants revenge. He hires two assassins, one for each target and puts a small price on Karen’s head for the right gang looking to make a name for itself but when they lose the element of surprise, they change tactics from kill to discredit. If Fisk can ruin the lawyers that brought about the collapse of his empire, he’ll regain control of his image and can generate attention to his case, maybe even appeal. Despite the dissolution of his power, it’s impossible to completely destroy or discover his entire network, so the amount of influence he may still have is unknown. Judging by Hoffman being forced into the cell right next to him, and the sudden accusations about Daredevil from prisoners, it would be wildly inappropriate to assert that he wasn’t still the kingpin. Fisk turns his attention to destroying the reputation of his opponents in an attempt to shift the focus away from his own crimes. Bullseye gives him the power to do this when he discovers Daredevil’s identity and, according to Peters, he also managed to link Karen to an infamous serial killer._

_As for Foggy, it would surely be proposed that he knew about his partners’ crimes and perhaps even had some of his own. Nelson & Murdock would come crashing down on top of the case against Fisk. All of the testimonies against him would come into question and the role of Daredevil in his arrest could even be twisted to work in his favour._

Matt was sucked out of his thoughts when he picked up Peters’ voice coming from just outside the door to his room. Matt wasn’t sure who he was talking to but they were speaking in whispers. Matt suddenly became very aware of the cuffs binding his wrists.

‘You know as well as I do that this isn’t going anywhere,’ said the unknown officer.

Peters had been on the force for over twenty-five years so Matt knew that anyone taking that tone with him must be either his equal or his superior.

‘Nothing at all came up in the search?’ said Peters, leaning against the door to Matt’s room.

‘Aside from the bullet hole? Nothing at all. Is it suspicious? Boy, you betcha. Just looking at the state of his place you can tell there’s something more going on and what Brock found out only adds fuel to the fire but we can’t base an argument around this type of stuff.’

‘We’ve got six witnesses that have never met before that are all accusing the same guy,’ Peters protested.

‘So they’ve never met, big whoop, they don’t need to meet to talk. And, besides, how much swing do you think the testimony of a convicted felon is going to have in court. Now, I’m right with you, there’s something up with this guy, there’s something up with their whole operation, but right now, we’ve got nothing.’

‘Then let’s test his eyes,’ said Peters, ‘if he’s lying about that, we can at least charge him with something.’

‘Listen, Peters, I’m not doing anything that might even slightly piss off a lawyer, let alone a pair of them. Unless you find me some serious evidence in the next three hours, I’m letting him walk.’

‘We don’t have to charge him with anything until tomorrow!’ Peters growled.

‘Clearly you weren’t listening when I said that we’re not gonna piss him off,’ replied his superior, fiercely.

Peters took a deep breath and his voice dropped low again.

‘How about this,’ he said, unclipping and unloading his gun, ‘say the guy’s really blind; then I can go in there, point this at his head and he won’t react, right?’

The other man grunted unintelligibly.

‘But if he’s not blind, if he is the guy, there’s no way he’s just gonna sit there and let me blow his brains out.’

There was a long pause between them. The longest one yet.

‘Peters, I’m not going to stop you and I’m not going to save you. You can do this if you want but I’m going back to my office and if the press turn up tomorrow with questions, I’m gonna say that I fired you the moment I found out. Now, give me that.’

He held out his hand and Peters handed him the ammo clip.

‘You’re either a genius or completely insane.’

‘I know.’

‘You’re definitely a bastard.’

‘I know that too.’

The older officer left without another word and Matt heard the door handle turning, followed by a small rush of air as the door opened.

Peters said nothing as he entered, closing the door quietly behind him. Matt made an effort not to react. Even a sighted person with their eyes shut would be able to hear his Peters’ heavy breathing. Matt decided to play his part.

‘Hello?’

Peters was almost completely still, standing on the other side of the desk, empty gun at his side. Matt put on a nervous frown.

Peters waited, probably trying to judge Matt’s reactions. After the best part of a minute, he slowly raised his gun, aiming it directly between Matt’s eyes. He held it there for a while, still waiting for Matt to do something. Matt paid no attention and drummed his fingers on the desk. Peters took a small step forward, extending his arm until Matt could smell the sweat on his palm. Peters pulled back the hammer, its click being the first noise he’d made since entering. Matt reacted appropriately.

‘Is someone there?’

Peters exaggerated a sigh, quickly slipping the gun back into his holster. ‘Sorry about the wait, Murdock,’ he said, ‘I’ve got some good news. It turns out that some of our information might have been intentionally misleading. As such, I’m apologizing and you’re free to go.’

He walked around the desk and unlocked Matt’s cuffs.

‘Sorry, again, for this mix-up,’ he said, robotically.

‘It happens,’ said Matt, rubbing his wrists.

Peters sat down opposite him but didn’t relax even slightly.

‘Of course, we’re still need to talk to Miss Page. Do you have any idea where we might find her?’

Matt shook his head. ‘If you’ve already checked her apartment then I can’t really help you.’

Peters took a deep breath and sighed it all away, clapping his hands on his knees and standing up.

‘Alright then, I’ll get you your walking stick and you can be on your merry way.’

‘Thank you,’ said Matt, getting up out of his seat.

Peters closed the door to the interrogation room/sauna behind them.

‘If you just wait by the front desk I’ll be back with your stick in a moment. Do you need a guide?’

‘Yes, thank you,’ said Matt, maintaining the illusion.

‘No problem. One second.’ Peters pulled one of the younger officers away from their desks and paired her up with Matt.

‘Lindsay, I’m going to get Mr. Murdock’s walking stick. Show him to the front desk for me, please. I’ll be back soon.’

Matt was smart enough to know that Peters was really leaving so that he could report to his superior. This guide was probably doubling as a spy too. He walked away and the young officer leading Matt by the arm.

‘So, why don’t you have a guide dog?’ she asked.

‘I used to have one,’ lied Matt, ‘but I just don’t have enough room in my current apartment.’

‘Oh,’ she said, solemnly. ‘This might be a stupid question but do guide dogs get named like other pets?’

‘Yeah. Her name was Dante.’

‘That’s a strange name for a dog. Especially for a bitch.’

Matt laughed and showed off his smile.

‘My partner at the time named her. It’s short for ayudante which is Spanish for─’

‘Helper,’ she interrupted, nodding. ‘I’m Dominican.’

Matt was about to say something but Peters interrupted them.

‘Alright, here you go, Murdock. I apologize again for the mistake but we have to take things like this seriously.’

‘I understand,’ he said, taking his cane back. ‘If you need anything else, I’ll be happy to help.’

The two officers waved him goodbye as he left but, when Matt stepped outside, he stopped there and focused on the conversations inside the precinct.

Peters and the guide were still standing by the front desk.

‘He seems alright, for a lawyer,’ she said.

Peters grunted.

‘So he’s not the Daredevil?’

‘We’ll see,’ said Peters, fiddling with his holster. ‘Get back to work.’

The Dominican officer rolled her eyes and went back to her desk where Matt had to strain to hear her. Gradually, he concentrated on fading out all the other voices until he picked hers out again. She was speaking to someone else – someone Matt couldn’t hear, possibly a phone call.

‘Tell him that it didn’t work; Murdock’s been released.’

Matt cursed at her under his breath, a deep scowl embedded onto his jaw. He flagged down the next cab, heading back to Jean’s place, narrowly missing Foggy by about five minutes.

‘How long ago did he leave?’ asked Foggy, trying to hold the attention of an extremely apathetic receptionist.

‘A minute ago?’ they shrugged.

Foggy groaned and whipped out his phone, dialling for Matt.

‘What is it, Foggy?’ he asked.

‘Where are you?’

‘On my way back. Why?’

‘No! You can’t go back there.’

Matt’s tone dimmed.

‘What do you mean “there”?’

‘Well… we had to leave.’

‘Why?’

Foggy groaned so loudly the whole station craned their necks to glare at him. He pouted right back at them. ‘Elektra found us and then, er, Stick showed up again. I mean, we managed to get away but it didn’t sound good.’

Matt hung up without another word. ‘Please, hurry,’ he said, turning to the driver.

Almost immediately, a text came through from Foggy. Matt pressed the read function and put it to his ear.

‘I put it under Jean’s room.’

*

Bullseye sat down with his little plastic tray and suppressed a giggle.

‘Explain why you’re laughing,’ said Fisk, languidly. He always spoke as if something was hovering over his very last nerve.

Bullseye dropped an extra pudding on the table from one of his sleeves. ‘I thought this was supposed to be maximum security.’

He received bitter looks from everyone sitting around Fisk’s bench.

‘Leave us,’ Fisk said.

Without hesitation, the seven other convicts got up, left their food behind and walked away.

‘I was just informed of Murdock’s release,’ said Fisk.

He watched all the blood rush out of Bullseye’s face, looking for somewhere to hide.

‘Even you should be able to figure out why that’s not acceptable to me.’

For once, Bullseye had nothing to say.

‘Spreading lies about the opposition is very damaging to my reputation, Lester. This is the third time you’ve failed me.’

‘Boss, I’m sorry, but I did everything exactly how I thought you’d want me to do it.’

‘I don’t want you to talk anymore,’ said Fisk.

Bullseye simply nodded.

‘There’s always another plan, Lester.’  

He nodded again, more enthusiastically this time.

‘When we go back to our cells, you’re going to call the guard over and tell him about the hole in your wall. Tell him that you found me trying to escape. The guard will ask you to hold your hands out through the grate in the door and he’ll cuff you. Then, he’ll tell you to stand at the back of the room until he’s finished inspecting it.’

Bullseye listened closely and nibbled on his stolen pudding.

‘I want you to kill the guard, quietly, and take his keys. Once you’re free, you’re going to let me out of my cell and we’ll hold him hostage until they agree to give us the keys to every cell. We’re going to let everyone out and in the resulting chaos, make our way down to solitary confinement and retrieve another of my employees. If you listen to and follow my instructions as I give them to you then there will be a helicopter on the roof tonight, ready to fly us out.’

Another nod.

‘If you fail me again, you die. If you do exactly as I say, I still never want to see you again. Either way, this will be the last job you do for me, Lester.’

Bullseye swallowed his pudding.

*

Once again, Matt found himself stuffing random notes into his driver’s hands without so much as a goodbye. His blood was pumping around his body at twice the normal rate but now that Eddie Brock had everyone in Hell’s Kitchen convinced that Matt was secretly Daredevil, he had to be a hundred times more careful not to arouse any suspicion.

He stepped clumsily out of the cab and followed his tapping cane into Jean’s building, cold sweat running down his back. When he reached her floor, he found someone had closed Jean’s door and the only sound coming from within was something dripping onto stone. Even before he opened the door there was no mistaking the scent of death. He nearly decided to close the door, turn around and never look back.

Matt tried the handle and the door opened easily, welcoming him into the aftermath of a natural disaster. Everything in the lounge that could be destroyed had been destroyed. He side-stepped splinters of glass and wood. The walls were pocked with cracks, craters and scratches where Stick and Elektra had thrown their full strength at one another. He walked past the kitchen, which remained mostly untouched apart from one counter which had been swept entirely clean, sending everything upon it crashing to the floor, most of it shattering into large, dangerous shards. The haunting stench of death got stronger as Matt approached the bedroom door. Unlike the door into Jean’s apartment, this one had been left open. Whoever had left it open wanted Matt to know exactly where to go. Matt knew what he was about to find, he could smell it, he could taste it, he just didn’t know whose it was – until he found it.

Left sprawled on the bed, there were so many mortal wounds across the body that any one of them could have been the killing blow and the sai through the neck may just have been for affect. Matt ran out of the room and threw up into the sink. The sound of Stick’s blood – it had soaked through the duvet and the mattress – dripping and pooling under Jean’s bed kept him retching there for another minute.

Out of some warped sense of sentimentality, Matt returned to the bedroom and pulled the sai from Stick’s throat. There was a note attached to the blade and that’s when Matt realised that Elektra had pierced Stick’s throat after he had already died, impaling the note on the blade and then leaving it in the old man’s neck. It suddenly hit him harder than ever before that he didn’t know her anymore. The Elektra that he had loved existed only in his memories and the Karen Page he knew was nothing more than an elaborate disguise. Matt steadied himself against a wall as the retching recurred.

He unfurled the note and ran his fingers over it, feeling the subtle engravings were the pen had travelled.

_Manténgase alejado de Riker’s y nadie más morirá._

Matt crumpled the note and dropped it on the floor. He could feel something draining from his body. Every thought quelled or took flight until he became an agent of instinct. His brain retired and set his body to automatic, leaving him with only one goal and no second thoughts about achieving it. He retrieved his suit from under Jean’s floorboards, carried Stick’s body up to the roof of the building and dialled 911. He reported it as a suicide and directed them to the building as he dropped Stick’s body off the edge of the roof. Matt felt a small sting behind his eyes and in his throat but gave it no freedom, hanging up the phone and making his way to his next objective: Riker’s prison.

*

‘It doesn’t feel right being here,’ said Karen, still standing by the door.

‘Technically, it’s my place now,’ said Jean, flatly.

Karen shrugged her shoulders.

‘Come on,’ said Jean, ‘I’ll put the news on.’ She took Karen’s hand and led her to the sofa in the lounge.

‘This is the first time I’ve been here since he died,’ Jean said, turning on Ben’s old television. She sat down next to Karen and passed her the remote. Karen flicked through until she found the news and muted it while they waited for the commercials to finish, snuggling up to Jean in the meantime.

‘Sometimes, it doesn’t even really feel like they’re gone,’ said Jean, leaning her head against Karen’s. ‘More like they’ve just gone on a really long holiday and if I just wait long enough, they’ll come back.’

Karen shifted about to kiss Jean’s neck and wrapped her arms tightly around her. Jean looked at her lovingly, searching the depths of her blue eyes, still puffy from their tears. ‘I want to know everything about you,’ she said, ‘I want to know the real you.’ Tears were forming in her own eyes now. ‘I don’t want you to feel alone anymore. Don’t hide from me. Please.’

Karen buried her face in Jean’s neck, muffling her words.

‘I won’t.’

Jean kissed the top of her lover’s head and squeezed her tightly before the television recaptured her attention.

‘Oh no,’ she whispered.

Karen looked up and took the TV off mute. They were showing a short loop of footage taken by a helicopter flying close to Riker’s. It showed part of the prison in flames, spotlights whirring around and shootouts between guards and prisoners on every side of the island. Both sides of the bridge had been barricaded and on the mainland side, if one looked closely, one could make out SWAT teams preparing to cross the bridge. Whoever held the bridge on the other side was unclear.

Jean inspected Karen’s face whilst she watched with horror and fury.

‘Let’s just go,’ said Jean, squeezing Karen’s hand to get her attention. ‘We don’t have to stay here. You don’t have to stay here. I have money. More money than we could ever spend. Come with me and we can start over. Leave this mess behind and be with each other.’

Her dark brown eyes sparkled as she spoke.

‘We could have a normal life together.’

Karen swallowed the lump in her throat and met Jean’s eyes, trying to ignore the voiceover reporting on Riker’s.

‘Okay,’ she said.

Karen laughed, nervously and kissed Jean’s lips. It felt like Karen had been walking through a desert for days and Jean’s kiss was like finding fresh water from a cold spring. There was no “enough”. She would never want to stop drinking from it.

‘Okay,’ she repeated, ‘but how?’

Jean stopped nibbling on Karen’s ear and pulled back. ‘All we need to do is go back to my apartment and get my laptop,’ she said, ‘we don’t need anything else. If we go right now we could be out of the state before the end of the day, in another country by the end of the week and have entirely different lives before the next full moon.’ Her words started to diminish as she went back to biting Karen’s neck.

Karen leaned back, lying down and pulling Jean along by wrapping her legs around her hips.

‘Do we have to go right now?’ she asked, whispering straight into her ear.

Jean grinned and began to unbutton Karen’s top, kissing along her collarbone.

They did it in the dark like a small light breathing rhythmically, together and part of one another, in the middle of a long, long night.

It only got darker when the hinges on the apartment door cracked open and it slammed to the floor, waking both of them up. Elektra stormed in, undaunted by their nudity and grabbed Karen by the hair, throwing her to the other end of the room. Jean stood up, swinging a lamp in her right hand that Elektra side-stepped easily, sending her do the floor with a swift backhand and jab to the kidneys. Jean grunted in pain and Karen screamed. Elektra snatched up the thin blanket and threw it at Karen.

‘That’s all you’re having,’ she said, before knocking her out and lifting her limp body onto her shoulder.

Elektra knew it would be easy to get to Riker’s without being seen. All of Hell’s Kitchen had retreated inside, eyes stuck to their television sets, following the news just as they had done when Fisk broke out on the highway months ago and she had the darkness on her side. Elektra checked that Jean was still lying unconscious on the floor and then stepped out into the night with her hostage.

 

*

 

By the time Matt reached the bridge it was a mess of dead and dying cops and prisoners. They’d managed to push the inmates back to the building itself, save for a few rebels, but the end of the riot remained far out of sight. After Bullseye took out the police station a few days earlier, Deputy Stacy had proposed that they moved people to Riker’s for holding as soon as they were charged as a way of dealing with vulnerable stations and a heavily diminished police force. Now, everyone could see the consequences of that decision, as the oversaturated prison fought to the death to avoid returning to their cells. Matt entered the warzone without hesitating.

He could hear a helicopter hovering somewhere above the prison, preparing to land. Even if that wasn’t part of Fisk’s plan, Matt knew he wouldn’t miss the opportunity to commandeer it, and entered the building.

The entrance to the building was littered with wounded inmates and guards alike, all of them squirming away from him as he passed. Matt knew he couldn’t save them all, if any of them, and kept in mind how many more people would die if Fisk got away. He ignored the whimpers of all those around him and pressed on through the building. When he made it into Fisk’s cellblock, he knew he was standing in the eye of the riot.

Even among hundreds of different people, he could make out the disgusting and overpowering stench of Bullseye. It was weak enough to know he wasn’t here right now but strong enough to know he hadn’t been gone long. Matt could use it to help guide him to the roof. There were other familiar presences in the block; the twisted, semi-conscious body of Turk Barrett on the second floor walkway, “Grotto” involved in a fist-fight with a guard in a nearby cell and Frank Castle, slaughtering his way from his cell to the stairwell, scooping up every weapon that fell before him.

Matt ran, leaped and climbed to catch up with him, Bullseye’s odour strengthening the closer further he went. He had expected to fight his way through the entire prison before he got to the roof but everybody he passed, regardless of their faction, moved quickly out of his way. Matt easily outpaced The Punisher, who couldn’t help but stop every five seconds to murder someone that didn’t immediately run for their lives, and soon found the door to the roof. When he opened it, he was hit with cold, fresh air and many familiar faces.

The helicopter hovered just over their heads, disorientating Matt with the tremendous thunder of its rotating blades. It was hard to concentrate on the presences before him and he could tell that Elektra was also having some trouble too. Bullseye’s odour masked everything around him to the point where Matt could neither smell, hear or see his surroundings. Until the helicopter landed, he would have to rely entirely on movement and vibrations.

Furthest away from him, eagerly waiting for the helicopter to land, stood Fisk and, to each of his sides, Bullseye, Elektra and a shivering Karen.

‘Kill him,’ commanded Fisk.

Elektra stood back, pressing the point of her sai into Karen’s neck, her blanket billowing from the helicopter’s wind. Matt dived for cover before Bullseye could take a shot and felt a bullet whiz past his head.

‘The priority is getting us out of here,’ said Fisk, ‘don’t go for the kill if it risks that. We can kill him another time, we can only get out of here right now.’

Matt swore loudly. One-on-one he could have easily goaded Bullseye into doing something stupid but with Fisk ordering him around, there would be no such mistakes and with Elektra there, his chances of sneaking around and surprising them were practically non-existent. He hadn’t felt this out of his depth since Nobu and he suddenly became very aware of the scars on his back. With Stick gone, the number of people that could actually be of help to him in this situation had gone down to two and the number of people that would get here in time sat firmly at zero.

He would never have asked for Frank Castle’s help but he sure felt a damn sight more hopeful when he came through the door and joined them on the roof. All heads turned towards The Punisher and Matt knew he wouldn’t get another chance like it.

‘Take care of him, Lester,’ said Fisk, nodding towards The Punisher.

The two killers, Lester and Castle, raised their weapons simultaneously and fired rapidly at each other whilst everyone else ducked for cover. Karen slipped away from Elektra as Fisk’s helicopter landed at the far end of the roof. He headed for it immediately. Frank unloaded clip after clip in Bullseye’s direction, refusing to give him a chance to fire back but many of the bullets were striking far wide of the mark due to the force of the helicopter’s blades. Matt took his chance and ran, passing behind The Punisher, over to where Karen was crouching. Sensing his approach, Elektra drew her sais but Matt could feel her hesitation.

He reached Karen, kneeling down beside her.

‘Are you hurt?’ he said, taking her face in his hands.

‘I don’t think so,’ she said, securing the blanket around her shoulders.

‘Stay here,’ said Matt, ‘don’t move. Wait for me. Okay?’

Karen nodded and Matt didn’t wait a second longer, unsheathing his batons and running over to face Elektra. When he reached her, she was ready for him and they clashed like two eagles in flight. Matt had never broke so even with somebody before. Nobu had outclassed him with strong technique and an unusual weapon. Fisk had beaten him when he was already severely wounded. Stick had had the upper-hand when it came to experience and technique but Matt had been stronger and more youthful when they last fought. But he and Elektra had had the same master, the same abrupt end to their training, they were even the same age. And they had once felt the same way about each other. Now, with the wind blowing hard against them and bullets exploding into life behind them, they struck out at each other with the symmetry and synergy of ocean waves; one backing off, sheepishly, as soon as they gained the advantage.

It was in that moment, their first dance in a long time, that Matt realized she was still the Elektra he had fallen for and could fall for again. He didn’t want this. He wanted her. Suddenly, he needed her. He needed his equal. He needed reconciliation. Elektra felt his blows withdrawing and jumped backwards, out of his reach.

‘Did you get my message?’ she asked. They were already circling each other. Old habits die hard. Fisk had secured himself inside his helicopter and Frank had finally taken cover to reload against Bullseye.

‘We don’t have to do this,’ said Matt, trying not to think about lifting Stick’s stiff corpse off Jean’s bed.

‘You didn’t have to come here,’ said Elektra, spinning her sais in her hands. ‘Why did you?’

‘I had to.’

‘Why?’

‘He deserves to be here,’ said Matt, weakly.

‘Fuck you, Matthew. Why did you really come here? Tell me!’

Matt’s knuckles went white gripping his batons.

‘I came here to stop you,’ he said.

‘Why?’

The circle between them was shrinking rapidly and the bursts of gunfire between Bullseye and The Punisher were becoming more and more infrequent. He couldn’t worry about it right now but Matt had noticed that Karen was missing.

‘I came here to stop you,’ he said.

‘Stop me what?’

‘You’re not disappearing from my life without a trace again,’ said Matt. ‘I’m not letting you go like this! This isn’t who you want to be.’

‘Well we don’t always get what we want, do we.’

‘What happened to you?’

Neither of them had lowered their weapons yet. Fisk was preparing to take off, the helicopter blades were picking up speed again.

‘The same thing that happened to you,’ said Elektra, ‘they killed my father. Stick promised me revenge but we were just potential soldiers in his war.’

‘If you don’t let me get Fisk then he’s going to put even more people through the pain we went through!’

Elektra laughed at him. ‘You had it easy, Matthew. You were his favourite. He told me all about you; how he went easy on you ‘cause you were just a kid. You don’t know how cruel he really was.’

‘Then tell me!’ shouted Matt. ‘Stop running and tell me what happened. Why didn’t you finish the training?’

Elektra stopped spinning her sais and took a step towards Matt.

‘Does “sight is a distraction” ring any bells?’ she asked.

Matt gave a nod.

‘He wanted to cut my eyes out.’

Matt heard a scream from behind him. Frank was on his knees, a bullet in each of them and Bullseye stepped out brazenly from behind his cover, weapon aimed between Frank’s eyes. Bullseye and The Punisher stared into each other’s eyes, their expressions ranging from disgust to hatred.

‘Nice try,’ said Bullseye.

He put his finger on the trigger and─

Karen emerged through the door wearing a mix of clothes liberated from guards and cons that no longer needed them. Matt finally understood what it was that she had left unspoken throughout their friendship; what it was she had been hiding.

‘Karen! Don’t!’

It was too late.

Karen squeezed the trigger and spread the contents of Bullseye’s skull over the ground. She walked, calmly, towards his twitching body, put another two in his chest and picked up his gun, tucking it into the back of her stolen pants.

Matt stood rooted to the spot as Karen took aim at Fisk’s helicopter, spending the rest of her clip trying to break through the bullet proof glass. Elektra took her chance and dashed towards Matt, slashing his back from hips to shoulders and stabbing him clean through the thigh. She left her sai impaled in him and sprinted towards the helicopter as it took off, leaping up to catch the bar and flipping around to the other side, joining Fisk in the cockpit.

Matt fell to his hands and knees, the pain in his back searing all the way through to his bones and flaring up every time he tried to breath. Roaring in pain, he pulled out Elektra’s sai and gathered the rest of his concentration, launching it towards Fisk’s helicopter. Matt couldn’t “see” the hovering vehicle but judging by the thudding noise that it made and the splashing sound he could suddenly hear, he had hit his target; the fuel tank.

Already, he was kneeling in a puddle of his hot blood and the noise of the whirring blades made his head pound even harder. He could feel Karen walking towards him, hear her soft footsteps, almost smell her hair and then he could feel… nothing. The world slipped out from under his grasp and Matt tumbled down, down to a place deep within his own mind.

 

*

 

Foggy stirred sugar into his coffee, keeping one eye on the news. It was a cold day and, according to the forecast, they were headed for something colder.

Eddie Brock appeared on the TV and Foggy turned it down, rolling his eyes. He took the coffee into the bedroom and set it down on the bedside table.

‘I can still hear that, you know,’ said Matt, his voice muffled under the weight of three separate duvets.

Foggy shrugged. ‘My house; my rules.’

Matt appeared from under his nest and sniffed the air.

‘Thanks, Foggy,’ he said, stretching, carefully, to pick up his mug of coffee.

‘You’re welcome. Careful though, it’s still hot.’

Matt took a sip anyway, suppressing the sting on his tongue.

‘Anything in the news?’

‘About Fisk? No.’

Foggy sat on the edge of the bed and sighed heavily.

‘Nothing about Fisk,’ he repeated, ‘nothing about Karen or Jean, nothing about Elektra. They’re treating it as one of the worst prison riots ever but nothing more. They say they still haven’t figured if anyone escaped because they are still a lot of bodies to go through.’

Matt grimaced and pretended it was from the pain.

‘Was Claire here?’ he asked, trying to change the subject.

‘No, no,’ said Foggy, ‘I patched you up myself this time; been brushing up on my first aid.’

‘Oh, thanks.’

‘Admittedly, I did call her for advice. She wasn’t happy about being woken up in the middle of the night, of course, but she’s glad to hear you’re not dead too.’

‘Well, that’s something,’ said Matt, dryly.

‘Mm,’ said Foggy. ‘Any idea how you got here yet?’

Matt shook his head. ‘I vaguely remember being carried but, for all I know, that might just as easily have been a dream.’

‘Strange,’ said Foggy, quietly.

Matt nodded and, for a bit, they sat in silence while he sipped his scalding coffee.

‘It’s cold,’ he said.

‘Yeah.’

‘Have you checked their apartments?’ asked Matt.

‘Hm? The girls? Yeah. They’re definitely gone.’

Foggy let himself collapse back onto the bed.

‘We didn’t know them at all,’ he said.

‘And I thought I had secrets,’ said Matt, attempting a laugh.

‘Mm,’ said Foggy.

Matt sat up suddenly, almost knocking Foggy onto the floor.

‘What is it?’ asked Foggy.

‘Interesting news,’ he said, ‘for once.’

‘Oh?’

Foggy got up and walked into the lounge, turning the volume right up.

The grating, nasally voice of Eddie Brock carried through to the bedroom.

‘Something being talked about right now that I believe is particularly relevant in light of this past month’s event is something called The Superhero Registration Act. This is an act being considered in congress right now which, if it’s approved, will begin the process of assimilating superheroes into the front line of police forces. You might remember, viewers, after that green _monster_ destroyed Harlem a coupl’a years back, I predicted that we might see a severe reduction in the police force as many more of them are killed in the line of service, further diminishing the number of new recruits each year. Now, we have a new incident every other month, another city levelled, hundreds of people killed in the destruction and the police just cannot keep up. Now, the eventual aim of the SRA is to entirely replace police officers with state-approved heroes that, with the proper training, will take over for them. And, even better, active officers will take on desk jobs and training roles to make sure that the entire process continues to be regulated properly rather than descending into a cycle of vigilante justice.’

‘That doesn’t actually sound like a bad idea,’ said Foggy.

Matt blew on his steaming coffee and said nothing.

‘Earlier today, I reached and asked Tony Stark, or Iron Man, to comment on this development.’

They switched to a clip of Stark, stepping out of a Bentley outside Avengers’ Tower and played a voiceover.

‘The bad guys are getting bigger,’ said Iron Man, ‘sooner or later we’re gonna have to beef up security on the streets. We’ve got guys out there right now walking into situations that they’re wildly under-equipped to handle. It’s the first line of defence, we need first-class people out there. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m about to go argue with a pensioner.’

The footage switched back to Brock, standing in front of Avengers’ Tower.

‘Of course, such a radical change is going to be met with controversy but I think something we can all agree on is that there needs to be a serious shake-up of the way the police respond to these new types of threats to prevent the kind of catastrophe we’ve seen before. Thank you for watching, I’m Eddie Brock.’

‘Sounds good on paper,’ said Matt, ‘until someone like Fisk comes along and buys every superhero in the state.’

‘There’s nothing to stop him from doing that right now,’ said Foggy, ‘at least if there was some kind of regulation in place, we could monitor these people more closely and make sure they’re all doing what they should be doing.’

‘It never works out like that. The last thing we should be doing is giving powerful people more power.’

‘I think we should be focusing on saving as many people as possible,’ said Foggy, ‘rather than trying to take the highest moral peak available.’

Matt raised his eyebrows and gave in, finishing his coffee.

‘I just can’t believe we fought so hard to get Fisk put away and now he’s out there again,’ said Foggy.

Matt reached over and patted his friend on the shoulder.

‘I know. But he can’t hide forever,’ Matt said, ‘as soon as we find Karen and Jean, we’ll start looking for Fisk.’

‘Oh yeah, I forgot to tell you,’ said Foggy, ‘I found someone that might be able to help us with that.’

Matt tilted his head curiously. ‘Who?’

‘Here,’ said Foggy, pulling out his phone, ‘you can talk to them yourself.’

He dialled a number and handed the phone over to Matt.

It rang for so long he started to doubt anyone was actually going to pick up until a tired and irritated voice answered.

‘Alias Investigations. What do you want?’

Matt ignored their hostile tone and spoke into the receiver.

‘I need help with a missing persons case.’

‘Okay. My rate is twenty five an hour. Who’s missing?’

‘Karen Page, Jean Urich,’ Matt turned away from Foggy, ‘and Elektra Natchios.’

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rather than updating the last three chapters separately I decided to just upload the rest all at once in case my internet fucked up again. So yeah, that's it, the end!


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